


Revertere Anima

by blacksbear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Hermione Granger, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fred Weasley Lives, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Remus Lupin Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-08 05:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksbear/pseuds/blacksbear
Summary: Of course, only Hermione Granger would manage to accidentally bring her best friend's dead parents and godfather back to life.





	1. The Second Time

_**May 25th, 2005.** _

Hermione Granger had known she would have to live up to the Wizarding World's expectations. She had known it from the moment Remus Lupin had called her the brightest witch of her age.

And apparently, living in a tent with two teenage boys had not been enough.

She now stood in the Lupins' kitchen, watching as her now close friend, Remus finally came down.

Teddy ran up to her and she knelt down so that she could give him a tight embrace, something that could hopefully make up for the saddening fact that he was now too grown and heavy to be picked up.

"Aunt 'Mione!" he yelled in her ear, as energetic as ever, and she grimaced slightly when the loud voice truly registered in her ear drums.

Giving him a light kiss on the forehead, she leaned back and felt a beaming smile grow at her lips. "Hello to my most favourite boy in the whole world!"

Remus was next to give her a hug, a warm smile directed at her as always. "Hello, Hermione. What are you doing here?"

At the reminder of why she'd initially come to see him, she audibly gulped, unsure on how to divulge into the matter. "Err—_well_, I was going to ask for your help with something."

He tilted his head, silently encouraging her to continue, despite the desperate breakdown that was growing in her mind.

How was she supposed to delve into the subject without making him think about his _dead friends?_

"I was hoping you could accompany me to the Department of Mysteries and the . . . _Death Chamber_ Room."

Her heart came to a painful halt when he visibly paled, upset at the reminder of what had happened almost ten years ago. Clearing his throat, he addressed her, "_Ah_. Did you not quit that job? _Please_, don't tell me you're changing it again."

She _had_ indeed quit her job a long time ago.

Right after graduating, she had gotten a job as an Unspeakable, and being assigned to the Death Chamber, she had done much research on the Veil. Despite her interest, the multiple voices she'd heard, and the fresh memories of the war had made it much harder for her to work in such a setting.

She'd eventually decided to quit, with the goal of making Werewolf-friendly bills and creating the Lupin Act, instead. It was since then, that she had grown quite close to the sandy-haired man that stood in front of her. Hermione could even go as far as calling him one of her best friends.

On the other hand, the Wizengamot had failed to get used to a Muggleborn being involved in their legal matters and due to her annoyance on their feeble excuses, she'd then ended up joining the Auror Department, instead.

Once her and Harry had been assigned as each other's partners, her best friend had often joked about them being always meant to be working together, and deep in their hearts, the almost-sibling duo was glad about it.

Needless to say, Hermione had long bid goodbye to level _nine_ of the Ministry of Magic.

Though, that had been before she'd begun having incredibly disturbing dreams of Harry's parents _and_ Godfather. Had it been a one-time thing, she would have let it go. But, their glimpses had constantly caught up with her as soon as she closed her eyes. All they'd chanted over and over again was _Revertere Anima, Revertere Anima, Revertere Anima—_

So - while she had _no_ interest in working there again, Hermione hoped to figure out what was going on with her. Her current theory was that it had something to do with the Death Chamber's connection with Sirius's death. And it would be _completely_ out of character for Hermione Granger to leave her questions unanswered. Hence why she'd decided to ask _Unspeakable Lupin_ for entrance.

The problem was deciding on _what_ to tell him.

In efforts of appearing nonchalant, she shrugged coolly. "I had some research started and you _know_ me—always finishing what I've started."

He stared at her incredulously. "That was three _years_ ago."

Knowing that her fierce glare wouldn't bulge him, she took a different route as she began to plead with him, "Come on, Moony. _Please?_ There's just this one thing I need to do. I'll even babysit Teddy, so that you and Tonks can go out this weekend."

Remus narrowed his eyes at her but agreed rather quickly, expelling a loud sigh. "Fine. I'll go tell Dora and then, we can go."

Hermione gave him a smile that could blind the sun.

—

Walking in the same room that Hermione had grown to _despise_ turned out to be quite an underwhelming experience. Maybe it was because she had been thinking about it for so long that now, she didn't find her surroundings much surprising.

She could even say that she felt _thrilled_ at the question of what was awaiting her.

With a lot of pleading, she had even convinced a reluctant Remus to stay outside of the room. All she had to do now was stand in front of the Veil and pray to Merlin that she won't be doing anything stupid.

Clearly, saying a spell that she'd only dreamed of and didn't know what to expect, didn't equal as stupid to her.

It equalled to _fucking_ _madness_ to everyone else, she mused before she took an alert stance and squared her shoulders confidently.

_Godric Gryffindor, watch upon my bravery._

Gripping her wand tightly, Hermione took one last step forward and stared at the bright curtain that continued to emit faint, grieving voices.

One shuddering breath and, "_Revertere Anima!_"

For what felt like an eternity, all she could hear was the sound of her own heart slamming against her rib cage. Until the Veil began to shake, and she was forced to stumble backwards. She tried to scream at the hot magic that poured within her Magical core, but all that tore out of her throat was a whimper.

"Hermione!"

She heard Remus's voice and immediately glanced back at him as he rushed her way. Before she could move towards him, her legs finally gave way and she fell on the floor with a loud groan.

Panicked, green eyes swam in her vision as Remus held onto her shoulders. "What did you—"

A loud, rumbling sound forced their eyes away from each other, and her gaze latched onto three blurry figures.

"_What the bloody fuck?_"

With that, she let darkness take over.

* * *

Sirius Black had thought himself to be the _most-almost-perfect_ man on Earth. That had been before he'd gotten his life fucked over by a fucking _Dark Wizard_.

When he'd fallen behind the Veil, he'd immediately regretted the cockiness that he had once enjoyed. Taunting Bellatrix had ended up killing him and at last, he had even accepted it.

Getting to see James and Lily again played a big part in that. The trio had tearfully embraced each other, and Sirius had repeatedly begged for forgiveness for fucking up so badly.

Once the couple had sat him down and reassured him that they'd never blamed him for anything, he'd felt at peace after a long time.

So, why the fuck was he back again in the same room with his best friend and his wife?

He blinked repeatedly and cocked a sharp brow when his gaze landed on his _other_ best friend, kneeling beside a curly-haired witch.

"_Moony_," he heard James exclaim from behind. Just like Sirius, his best mate looked the same as he had when he'd died - when Sirius had last seen him in the _living_ world, complaining about losing his sleep due to Harry's constant cries.

What if . . . _Remus_ was dead, too? . . . No, his best mate had obviously aged.

They hesitantly trudged forward, Remus continuing to stare at them as though they were ghosts. Which, they _might_ be, Sirius thought to himself.

"What the bloody fuck?" Remus exclaimed loudly, and _Merlin_ had the werewolf gotten the mouth of a sailor!

Sirius never felt so proud.

Dear, old Moony stood at once and jumped into their arms, gathering them tightly in his hold and surprising them all when his hands didn't pass through. Were they _not_ dead?

"What is—are you _real?_"

Lily glanced around, confusion etched on her young face, and she eventually gave Remus a hesitant smile. "Seems like we are."

With tears that now trailed down his cheeks, Remus looked back at the woman that still laid unconscious on the ground, and he murmured lowly, "You brilliant witch."

James wiggled his eyebrows at the werewolf, and Sirius was almost brought back to their times at Hogwarts. "Who's that, Moony?"

Oblivious to their best mate's teasing, Remus's face split into a wide grin. "She's the one who brought you back! I-I don't know _how_ but of course, _Hermione_ did it."

Hermione?

His brows furrowed together, and Sirius scratched the back of his head, his mind reeling as he tried to make sense of that name. "I think I remember that name . . ."

The _Potters_ gave him long, pointed looks, and Sirius instantly raised his hands to placate their accusatory ideas. "No one I _shagged._"

Remus shook his head, an amused smile now fully grown on his lips. "_Of_ _course_ not."

Feigning a pained look, Sirius gave the old man a wounded cry, his hand clutched over his chest. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked indignantly.

"She's _Hermione Granger._"

Lily gasped loudly, reaching for her husband's arm. "James! That's our son's best friend."

Sirius gaped at the werewolf, unable to believe his words. "You mean the insufferable, little girl that always fought with me?" he questioned incredulously, thinking back to the hard time he had building a friendly connection with her.

Not that he'd really tried a whole lot, considering he'd mostly dedicated his time to Harry.

While Remus sent a bunch of Patronuses, Sirius took his time to approach the witch and for his eyes to _drink_ her in. He was blown away by how different and yet similar she looked. Her curls looked somewhat softer now, but if you stared for long enough, you could still see the same set of freckles splattered across her button nose.

Sirius admitted that she looked beautiful. _Way_ too beautiful for someone he remembered to be so fucking _infuriating_. Even her beauty now unnerved him, and he nearly tripped behind the Veil for the second time.

He groaned loudly when a thought crossed his mind.

"She saved my bloody life for the second time now!"

* * *

It took more than a week to reunite with everyone and get used to a life where Voldemort _wasn't_ a part of it, as disturbing as it sounded.

Harry had stuck with all of them for every hour of the day in fear of them disappearing again. With a deep pang in his chest, Sirius had felt like a disappointment _again_ for leaving his Godson to deal with the war all by himself.

Though, he had been glad that Harry had ended up having his two best friends by his side. He'd learned that the Weasley kid had abandoned the two for a while, but Sirius couldn't get mad at him for it, considering he wasn't there, as well.

And had she not been dead already, Sirius would've made sure to kill Bellatrix in the most torturous, lengthiest way the moment he learned of the pain _Hermione_ had endured. Lily had broken down the second she'd seen the slur carved on her arm, and James had to take her away to calm her down.

When Harry had told him of how much he'd regretted breaking the taboo and getting her hurt, Sirius had to tell the younger boy that some mistakes were inevitable.

The little witch who had brought all of them back was still under magical exhaustion and had yet to wake up. The Wizarding world had ended up making assumptions on how she'd done the impossible.

Some had started to assume that she'd given herself to the Veil to have them back, while others even ran with the rumours of her using _Dark_ _Magic_.

In short, everyone had been waiting for her to wake up, and Sirius would've been lying if he said that he also didn't want her to wake up as soon as possible.

—

They were having breakfast at Grimmauld Place when Sirius was brought back to reality as Harry's loud voice rang throughout the room from his Patronus.

Sirius picked up his pace as he went up the stairs, in the vivid excitement to finally hear her voice again. Despite being annoyed by it in the past, he'd admitted she had only nagged because she'd cared for her best friend's Godfather, and he'd now easily let it go.

It was all too easy, considering how she'd given him all he'd ever hoped for. His best friends together with their children.

Did he say how much he _adored_ Teddy?

Sirius peeked inside the room and his gaze landed on the curls sprawled over Harry's shaking shoulders. The two loudly cried together, unaware of everyone else's presence. He was able to pick up Harry's muffled voice as he repeated his _'thank you's'_ over and over again.

Hermione shook her head adamantly, cupping his face and giving him a shaky smile. "_Anything_ for you," she insisted, her voice soundly breaking under sobs.

His heart warmed at the sight and then, it caught on _fire_. She looked up and his eyes met with the _warmest_ colour he could ever see. Tear streaks shone on her rosy cheeks, and he was stunned to hear her voice say his name with such amazement.

He swallowed thickly, calling for a wry smile on his face. "How many more Life Debts are you planning on collecting, witch?"

She sniffed haughtily. "Doesn't matter as long as _Snuffles_ lives."

Sirius lost himself under her words and he could barely make out of what the rest of his friends began to tell her. All he could see was her head shake, a rosy blush tint her cheeks, and her plump lips form around words in such a delicate manner that —

— that he would _hate_ to let go of her lips with his own any time.

Now, where _that_ thought had come from, Sirius did not know.

All the man could think about for the next few months was the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the encounters she and Harry had at work. Or how her nose scrunched when she tried to hide her amusement at one of his jokes.

Though, she always failed, and he was quite—no, _very_ proud of himself for that.

And maybe, even the way she nibbled at her bottom, plump lip whenever she concentrated on something she was working on. Not to mention how her lovely _curves_ caught every single wizard's attention whenever she entered a room.

He wasn't sure if _that_ was such a good thing.

Sirius had started considering Hermione his angel, much to everyone's amusement whenever he pointed it out. Harry would always snort and say that she _was_, in fact, an angel.

The guardian angel that had helped him defeat one of the strongest Dark Wizards to have ever seen the day.

Hermione Granger came to be the world's brightest witch of the age, her loved ones' angel, and . . . his _Kitten_.

Needless to say she shot him a dirty look whenever he called her that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I'm not sure if I want to just leave this as a one-shot, or continue for a few more chapters. I'll see if anyone likes it!


	2. Older Kids

** _September 19th, 2005._ **

"Sirius Black, _you're_ the fucking dog!"

"No, that's _Padfoot_," threw back Sirius as Hermione promptly walked away from him and their conversation, slamming the door to her room loudly.

James and Lily hurried inside the kitchen, eyeing the retreating form of the witch before turning to him with accusing stares. "What did you do, now?" the redheaded questioned.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I may or may not have asked her where she was last night and - _err_, insinuated that she was a female dog." He grimaced in shame, recalling the look on her face.

Sirius admitted that it was terribly wrong of him to say that. He'd just been too pissed to care about whatever was coming out of his mouth at the time.

They had all gone out last night. The witch had presented herself in a tight, red velvet dress that had hugged her lovely arse, leaving everyone to appreciate it. The way music had buzzed around his ears when he'd seen her walk in . . . it had left him absolutely _annoyed_.

Sirius had tried convincing himself he was just finding her attractive. He'd thought that he couldn't even call it an _infatuation_. _No_, he'd scoffed at the idea. That was Hermione Granger he'd been talking about.

He'd mentally protested that it was merely his appreciation for a woman's beauty. Sirius Black was not one to be hung up thinking of just _one_ witch.

But now . . . it had been _three_ months for Merlin's sake!

The two of them had managed to get a rise out of each other all the time, leaving everyone else to wait as they calmed down, apologized and proceeded to talk to one another as though they hadn't just had a row.

He liked that about them, he'd admitted while he'd chatted up with a few other witches for the rest of the night. He had been planning on approaching her but just as he'd taken a step forward, Blaise Zabini had decided to lead her outside, his arm wrapped around her _waist_ as they had apparated away.

Sirius had barely slept a wink, in hopes of catching sight of her or even hearing her stumble through the fireplace like she usually did.

Instead of _last_ night, the Floo had roared by the time he had finished having breakfast. She'd greeted him with a radiating smile and her heels resting in her petite hands. For once, he had been too blind with jealousy to stare at the gorgeous quirk of her lips, rather than her mussed curls and smudged red lipstick.

He had loathed his brain for supplying him with images that should never be made public.

Sirius had tightly gripped the edge of the table before he'd addressed her. "Where were you?"

Hermione had blinked, practically oblivious. "I was with Zabini."

"I know, but where did he _take_ you?" Sirius had crossed his arms, staring at her pointedly.

"That's none of your business," she had replied hotly with narrowed eyes.

He had ignored her tone and look of warning as usual. He had known that he was going too far, but the irritation that had been building up inside of him all night had urged him to continue. And he had done just that.

"Did he kick you out of his house before or _after_ you begged for a signature hickey?"

Marching up to him, she had jabbed her finger against his chest. Her hair had come to life, crackling magic running through her curls, and her cheeks had flushed darker than they'd been before she'd arrived.

He would've been proud over the darker tinge of her cheeks had it not been for the circumstances.

"Who are you to ask me that?" she had demanded, chastising him for his vulgar language with the look on her face.

"No one special, of course. You leave that spot for other men," he had muttered bitterly as he had grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his chest.

"Tell me," he'd whispered, wearing a tight expression. "How many guys have you left in the morning like this?"

She'd pushed him away and given him a strained laugh. "Ah, it must've hit too close - women leaving you after a shag before you can even _blink_ at them."

His brows had risen in surprise. "Are you calling me a _slag?_"

"No, you're the one insinuating I'm a fucking bitch."

The words had tumbled out before he could stop himself. "Well, maybe you _are!_"

He had then blinked at the shine that had filled the gaze in front of him.

"I—Hermione, I didn't mean—"

He had started to take a step towards her, but she'd put out her hand to stop him, stepping back even further. "_Don't_," she'd hissed. "Sirius Black, _you_ are the fucking dog." And after his idiotic quip, she had stormed away and headed to her bedroom, leaving him to stare at her back dejectedly.

As he recalled the event, he was brought back to reality when James groaned loudly. "Padfoot, of all days, you chose _today_ to make her angry." His best mate paused for a second before he added, "More than usual."

Sirius stared at him blankly. "Why? What's today?"

James opened and closed his mouth numerous times.

"_Oh_, just the birthday of the girl you supposedly _like_ and finished calling a _bitch_," Lily said flatly, her emerald eyes sparking in annoyance in a way that screamed _danger_.

"Fuck."

They looked at him in disbelief. "Alright, Pads. I'm not going to ask what your intentions are with Hermione because I'll leave that job to Harry and Remus, _but_ I want you to know that I've grown quite close to the witch and Lily here considers her - _uhm_, sister or daughter?" James asked, glancing at his wife.

"Daughter . . . I think. _Gods_, I'm twenty-one and I have kids _older_ than me."

—

After making the couple promise that they wouldn't tell Harry of what had transpired that morning, Sirius proceeded to stare at a particular door.

It was pulled open only after several, incessant knocks from his behalf.

Sirius could be quite stubborn.

He took in the sight of the woman, and his eyes softened greatly. Her curls had now turned frizzy, and her eyes were bloodshot red, all because of _him_. He swallowed dryly. "I'm sorry, Kitten. I really didn't mean to act that way."

When Hermione stayed silent, he continued with his heartfelt apology. "I was worried - for _you_, I mean. But it still doesn't excuse my behaviour."

He watched as fury left her eyes and a frown forced her brows together. Inhaling sharply, she met his gaze and mumbled softly, "It's alright. I've called you _worse_ other times."

His lips parted on a breath and he repressed the urge to give her a crushing hug as she sent him a small, lazy smile. He decided on leaning against the wall instead, and he gave her the kind of smile that he only saved for _her_.

She blinked at the hand he held out, and Sirius offered an explanation, "Would Lady Granger like to watch a _filp_ before going to the Weasleys?"

She chuckled softly and gave him a nod, interlacing her fingers with his.

"It's called _film_, Sirius."

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "_Alright_, brightest witch of the age."


	3. Irony

_ **September 19th, 2005.** _

They settled on the same couch, sitting opposite each other with their limbs tangled together under the blanket. Sirius insisted that Hermione chose the movie and for some crazy reason, she decided on watching one that had ended with her weeping and Sirius shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

With the popcorn long forgotten and pushed aside on the table, he glanced at her. She was wiping off the last traces of the tears she'd shed and when she caught him watching, she sent him a sheepish smile. He rolled his eyes at her adorable behaviour. _Merlin_, he'd become just like Prongs.

"Why would he marry her if he knew she was going to die?" he wondered out loud, breaking the thick silence.

She blinked at him thoughtfully and twirled a lock of her hair; yet another habit he'd come to adore.

"He loved her and knew that it was better to love her till the last breath she took, instead of regretting not doing anything when he had a chance," she answered eventually.

Flashes of a familiar couple flooded his mind and he nodded in understanding. "Ah, like James and Lily."

"Yes." She wore a fond smile, probably recalling her new friends. He thought of how _lucky_ he was to like someone who managed to get along with his best friends and fit right in, as though she'd known them for a lifetime.

"—They knew there was the risk of the growing war, but that didn't stop James from proposing. He knew he wanted to spend all the time he had with Lily," she finished, respect and awe bleeding into her tone.

He nodded mutely and paused to stare at her once more. "Would _you_ have done that?" he asked, uncertain.

She gave him a startled look. "I'm sorry?"

"Would you have taken the risk to marry someone . . . say during the war?" he repeated, shuffling underneath the blanket that laid upon the two of them. Her socks tickled the hair on his legs, but he didn't mind.

"I _might_ have - yes," she said slowly. "If I truly loved someone unconditionally, I might've married them right away."

His eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Then, why didn't you?"

Her voice took over the matter-of-fact tone he'd remembered her using whenever she mouthed every single piece of knowledge she owned. "It's quite simple. I didn't really have anyone like that in my life—and even if I did—I wouldn't have done that to Harry."

At his confused stare, she scoffed loudly. "What do you think he would've done, had I told him I was getting married? He would've told me to stay back, safe with the guy, while he sacrifices himself and tries to defeat Voldemort all by himself."

His eyes widened comically, him astonished by the loyalty she'd so casually displayed. Her eyes sparkled with a fierce fire, and he was proud to be there to witness it. He knew now that no Voldemort or Death Eater could ever dampen her determination, though Bellatrix had come close to it.

He fought the urge to caress the scarred skin of her forearm. Instead, he leaned forward and clasped her hands together with his. "You're a great friend," he told her sincerely, his gaze catching the caramel flecks in her eyes.

They softened instantly at his words and she preened under his praise. He gave her a wide smile when red tinged her cheeks. He was grateful that this time it was due to his applause, not his taunting.

He was getting there, _slowly_ but surely.

She gnawed on her lower lip and checked her watch. "We should probably get ready and go," she announced, getting up and slipping her feet into her slippers.

He nodded dumbly, still focusing on the sudden loss of warmth he felt even while still under the blanket. He shrugged it off and stood to face her. Tugging on a stray curl and pushing it behind her ear, he gave her a lazy smile. "Get your fur ready, Kitten," he teased lowly.

She rolled her eyes and left the room, not before sticking her tongue out at him and giving him a rude gesture that would have the younger Hermione gasp. Sirius shook his head fondly, heading to his room to dress and make sure his glorious locks of hair could highlight his undeniable good looks.

—

A fair half an hour later, Sirius stood in front of the Floo and waited for the birthday girl. It didn't take him long to realize that he'd let it slip that they were going to the Weasleys.

He stifled a groan for being unable to keep the surprise party a secret from her. Was there anything—really, _anything_—that the witch did not manage to know?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when she walked in - _oh_, so gracefully. A wide smile bloomed on her plump, pink tinted lips and his own quirked up.

He slowly dragged his eyes down her body, drinking in every line and every slope of her features. Her soft, yet tight, pastel pink dress left him marvelling at how _beautiful_ she looked, with her mass of curls shading into a golden, but still brown halo due the light that seeped through from behind.

She cleared her throat and he glanced up at her, not looking remotely embarrassed for blatantly checking her out. He placed a lingering kiss on her soft hand and didn't let go of it until they moved to grab the Floo Powder.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," he told her with a winning smile, looking at her just for a few more seconds before yelling out his destination.

He blinked several times and moved ahead to give Hermione some space as she arrived. He watched her wobble unsteadily and he was quick to place an arm around her waist to steady her.

"Easy there," he murmured against her ear.

She nodded mutely, surveying the changes the Burrow decorated. They walked in together and his heart warmed up at the sight of the witch in his arms.

Hermione was beaming, her cheeks reddening in even darker shades as guests proceeded to approach her, wishing her a happy birthday. Sirius caught his best friends staring at his arm, still placed around her waist, and sporting a matching set of raised brows.

He sighed and reluctantly let go of her, letting different people drag her Merlin knows where. He strolled to the men he'd grown up with and pursed his lips when they sniggered at him.

"Not a word," he warned.

James clapped him on the back and grinned. "I see she still tolerates you—"

"—And you're still trying to woo her," drawled Remus, giving him a knowing look Sirius had grown to groan at.

"Yes, _well_ . . ." he grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm still new at the chasing part."

He wasn't being purposely arrogant. It really needn't be said for everyone to know the effects he had on the women and men around him.

Sirius Black had an abundant charm; the fairer sex not even giving him the chance to woo anyone because they were the ones chasing _him_ with never-ending love.

But _of course_, Hermione had to be different. Not that he minded. Sirius repeatedly told himself to be patient, and patient he would be.

—

"Hermione!" called out a familiar voice.

"Harry," she greeted with a soft smile, reaching out to give him a hug. She let go of him as soon as he complained about death due to _hair_ suffocation.

Rolling her eyes, she interrupted whatever he was about to say and told him bluntly, "You know, it's about time you do it."

Confusion flickered across his features before embarrassment came flooding in. He raked his fingers through his own awful hair and let out a groan. "I _know_ I should. Dad told me the same thing and I even have it in my pocket right now—I should just do it today, shouldn't I?"

She stood calmly, letting him stumble through his words as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing to be nervous about. She loves you, Harry."

With squared shoulders and a reluctant nod, Harry trudged across the yard where his girlfriend stood. She felt a fond smile tug at the corners of her lips, looking at her childhood best friend and waiting for him to finally get on his knees and propose to Ginny.

She abruptly turned around when a Patronus—Head Auror Robards's, she recognized—called for her attention. "_Auror Granger, your presence is needed at the Department of Mysteries. Come quickly._"

Hermione instantly grabbed her wand from the holster she wore around her leg and transfigured her dress, turning it into the proper shirt and pants. She drew a long breath, preparing to apparate, stopping only when she heard Harry call out her name.

She turned around to face him and shook her head. "I'll manage, Harry. You make sure to do what you were planning to, or I'll come throttle you."

Without giving him a chance to respond and failing to see Sirius as he made his way towards her, she let the familiar tug in her gut take her away.

Blinking rapidly, she glanced at her boss and made her way towards him, studying his face to find a clue as to what the issue was. "What's going on?" she finally asked once she reached him.

Relief took over his face. "Amos Diggory has broken into the Death Chamber and refuses to break the wards until he speaks to _you_."

Hermione remembered seeing the man briefly a couple of times in her fourth year but after Cedric's death, she hadn't gotten the chance to meet him again. Giving him a tense nod and swallowing down the memories of the Third Task, she briskly stormed past the crowd and made her way up to the room she'd been in months ago.

Another Auror stood in front of the door to the Death Chamber room, trying to coax the man inside to give in. She gestured for him to stand aside, and she began slow tentative steps towards the barrier the ex-Ministry worker had created.

"Mr. Diggory?" she called out, grabbing his attention and forcing him to turn away from the Veil.

"Please, get out of there. That room isn't safe," she advised, fear rising quickly at his closeness to the loathsome curtain.

The older man trashed his head, refusing to surrender. Sighing to herself, she drew a breath to stay calm. "Then, maybe you can let me come in?" she tried to press.

He surprisingly altered the wards with his wand, waving his hand in a strange, unfamiliar motion. She gave the Auror a look, silently telling him to memorize what he was doing and find out what kind of magic he was using.

After receiving a reluctant nod and seeing him turn around to find a Curse-Breaker, she gripped her wand tightly and reluctantly walked up to Diggory.

Careful not to agitate him further, she gave him what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. "Mr. Diggory, it's nice to meet you again. I heard you were calling for me."

His glazed eyes met hers and he gave her a haunted look. "Granger!" he cried out as he strode to her, ignoring her raised wand and grasping onto her shoulders. "You need to bring back my son!"

Latching her fingers around his wrists, she tried to to pull away from his hold, a frown marring her face. "I'm sorry. I can't do that."

He jerked away instantly, the loss of his weight making her stumble slightly before she shot him a _Stupefy_. He moved out of the way and yelled out _Bombarda_. She ducked down and stood back up, calling out _Locomotor Mortis_ at him.

He blocked it with a Shield Charm and yelled a _Flipendo_. She cursed under her breath as she jerked around the blue beam of light and her steps faltered. He immediately shot an _Impedimenta_, hitting it square in her chest. The force threw her backwards and she fell on her backside with a rugged sway.

As he inched closer to her, her fingers skimmed the cold tiles, anxiously looking for her wand that had flown out of her hand. She felt the familiar walnut wood under her palm and her breath hitched, before scrambling to get it.

A shade passed on Diggory's face. "_Crucio_," he whispered with the same cruel, wicked smile and tone she hadn't seen since the day she'd writhed at Malfoy Manor.

She frantically slid out of the way, unconsciously letting the Veil tug her closer. Not allowing herself to give in to the panic, she breathed in sharply when he shot a _Sectumsempra_ at her and she failed to block it.

Hot blood pooled in and she hastened to breathe out the counter spell, intense pain still squeezed around her stomach. Diggory lunged forward and she watched with dread as he - _oh,_ so ironically threw Bellatrix Lestrange's old wand into the Veil.

Hermione Granger was fucked.


	4. Intense

_ **September 19th, 2005.** _

Hermione tried to pull energy from within her to stand up—or even just buy some time—but once Diggory yelled out _Crucio_, she knew she had no more to give. The blood she'd lost from before did nothing but weaken her limbs further. A familiar cry ripped itself from her mouth, her body shaking in agony.

Her nails ripped into her palms, her senses rapidly deteriorating. Her head pounded, feeling as though it was being split open with a slow, chilled knife. She shook violently and her vision faded as she tried to turn her head towards the door. Her blurred eyes caught the sight of the mop of black hair she'd grown to adore.

Her screaming stopped and she heard the thumping of feet approaching. Diggory caught her sleeve and dragged her weight back up, the screaming pain from her body increasing heavily.

"_STOP!_" she heard Harry scream, panic evident in his voice. The older man ignored him, instead forcing her limp body to face the Veil, close enough to feel the chilling breeze it erupted.

His eyes flashed and he brought his hands up to hold her by her throat, clutching it tightly. A hoarse wail poured from her mouth, but he didn't let go. "Stop lying, you bitch," he spat, dark and fierce.

"You brought your friends back and if you don't give me my Cedric, I'll throw you in there myself," he threatened, his fingers still holding onto her limp body with a death grip.

A black pit opened in her stomach in a promise to swallow her whole, and she gasped for breath. Fear spiked through her half-alert mind and she managed to choke out, "I don't know how—please! It was by accident."

He roared in anger and he continued to push her closer to her inevitable death. She felt her blood drain, when the wards broke and Harry ran inside, separating them both and pushing them on each side of the room.

Her ribs crunched painfully, but she didn't care to mind as she hit the ground. Her head lolled to the side and she heard Harry scream out _Petrificus Totalus_. His voice leaked in cold and sharp and the thud she caught told her of what was happening.

Harry's steps started sounding louder, with twice the speed. He dropped to her side and she saw a glimpse of his worried look. "Hermione! Don't worry, you—I'll get you out of here. I promise."

The panic in his voice was evident and she suppressed the need to comfort him like she was so used to. She clutched the front of his robes with a vice like grip, fearful that if she let go, they would both slip into the Veil. He helped her off the ground, voice quivering as he murmured encouraging words and soothed her back.

She held back a whimper, desperate to look at the bright, emerald hues of his eyes—find the usual love and warmth they bore—but she had to eventually give in to darkness.

* * *

Hermione's eyes fluttered through her thick lashes. She was grateful for the drawn curtains in whatever room she was in, until panic came flooding in at the thought of being inside the Veil.

Only after she saw Sirius's hair sprawled all over her lap, with his hand clutching hers, did she release a shaky breath.

Sirius shot up his head at the sound, his eyes widening momentarily as his shoulders sagged in relief.

"Kitten," he murmured throatily, looking every sense of dishevelled. "I was so worried."

"What happened?" She grimaced at the groggy tone that came out of her dry, parched throat.

A shadow fell over his face and he drew small circles on top of her hand with his thumb, their fingers still intertwined. "Harry received a Patronus sometime after you left. He stopped the fucker and got you here soon after the Curse-Breaker broke through the wards."

He helped her sit up and she settled back with a wince, her head beginning to pound. "Where am I?" she asked, after taking the glass of water he'd handed her and gulping down a big sip.

"We're at St. Mungo's. Harry left just now—shit, I should probably call that git of a Healer," he told her through gritted teeth, his voice trailing off as he headed out of the room momentarily and came back with the _git_, as he had so called him.

Hermione relaxed greatly when she saw the actual Healer that she'd gotten so used to seeing. She grinned, though it came out as a weak grimace, and she didn't fail to notice Sirius's surprised look. "Malfoy," she greeted easily.

The blond nodded. "Granger." He proceeded to wave his wand to attend her injuries and cast a Diagnostic Charm. "I see you've been making new enemies."

She shrugged. "Yes, _well_ . . ."

Sirius looked bewildered. "You're okay with this? With . . . _him?_" he questioned, his lips curling up in distaste at the last part.

"Why would I not be? Sirius, he is not his father and maybe, we shouldn't talk about this whilst he's in the room."

"Fifty points to Gryffindor," muttered Malfoy, unfazed by Sirius's reaction, and she rolled her eyes at his usual snark.

"How are you feeling? I need you to drink this potion for the Cruciatus after-effects."

"It's nothing I haven't experienced before," she joked half-heartedly, but shrunk down immediately when she received two glares. She swallowed the green liquid she was given, ignoring the foul smell it erupted, and she blanched at the now empty vial.

"Yes, Granger. Not the best taste. Maybe you should become a Potioneer, instead of hunting down Wizards," he remarked flatly, moving away from the bed without a look back at Sirius.

"I think I'm good," she threw back and tried to give him a shrug, but she stopped immediately at the sharp pain that erupted in her shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Sirius demanded, throwing his hands up in the air and looking at her with eyes so wild she hadn't seen since fifth year. "Because as far as I know, you were inches away from falling into the Veil and fucking _dying_, Hermione!"

"Sirius Black! Give the poor girl some space," said a voice at the door, and they all turned to see the Potters _and_ Weasleys scurrying to her bedside.

Malfoy quietly slid out of the room, and she stifled a tired sigh at that. Instead, she turned to look at Lily with a small smile. "Thanks, Lily."

Lily looked over her frame in worry before meeting her gaze and smiling back. "You're welcome. How are you feeling?"

"How do you think she's going to feel after going on a mission alone?" Harry asked, exasperation and frustration melting all the same into his words.

Hermione groaned and turned to glance at him as he sat by her legs. "Not you, too," she pleaded, and he glared at her for a few seconds before looking down in defeat.

He raked a hand through his hair. "Sorry."

"Did you do it?" she asked after a couple of beats.

"Huh—oh, I did. She said yes." Harry grinned, though the worried turmoil could still be seen in his eyes.

"Congratulations!" She beamed at the ring that sat on Ginny's finger.

The redhead walked closer and fisted her hands on her hips. "Now, we just need my bridesmaid to get well soon."

Hermione's smile broadened at her words and she let her body slump against the bed. She glanced around the room and sighed in content, knowing well that she was safe and with the people she loved.

Though her smile soon faltered, and Harry, being the shrewd boy he was, caught the change instantly. "What is it?"

"What happened to Diggory?" Hermione felt her throat tighten as memories of the man flashed in her mind.

Harry locked his jaw tightly, looking so much older as he did so. "We took him for questioning and found out he was being _Imperiused_."

She thought back to his glazed eyes and nodded slowly. "Did you find out who was behind it?"

He shook his head and she bit her bottom lip, careful to not bombard him with questions.

Sirius moved up against the wall and approached her with small steps, looking at her carefully. As he watched her yawn, the corners of his lips quirked up.

"I think," he began, his voice soft but clear," we should let her get some sleep."

She swallowed thickly, unable to look away from his gaze. Hermione couldn't deny that Sirius Black was able to stir up intense emotions in her. She wasn't sure it was something minded, at all.

Slowly, the room began to empty, leaving behind a weary looking Sirius. She watched him slump against the chair by her bedside.

"You don't have to stay," she told him, careful not to give away the hope that dimmed slightly in her stomach.

His eyes flickered to hers and he gave her a lazy smile. "Oh, but I want to," he murmured, gently tapping the tip of her nose with his index finger.

She let out a huff and he leaned in closer, holding her lightly to help her lay back down. He smoothed the pillow against her head and fixed the blanket draped on top of her. He ran a hand through her curls and soon enough, she welcomed sleep once more.

* * *

_ **September 25th, 2005.** _

"Why haven't you eaten yet?"

Sirius crossed his legs gracefully and looked back up from the magazine he was reading. He shook his head and his face split into a grin. "I thought we could eat together."

"You should've told me!" she sputtered. It had been almost a week since the accident and Sirius had been stuck to her hip practically for every hour of the day. Not only that, he'd even stopped riling her up, and she wasn't sure she liked that. Which was . . . well, _concerning_.

He gestured with his hand, silently telling her to join him. She complied, shuffling quietly as she sank down to face him across the table.

"Why are you being so nice?" she finally blurted out as they began to eat.

His brows arched high in disbelief and he slowly set down the glass of Firewhiskey he was holding. "You don't want me to be nice?"

"Yes—No . . . I mean. I just don't _understand_ why you're acting so different," she stammered, eyeing him appraisingly.

"Well," he said, his tone now starting to sound defensive. "I guess I just momentarily regretted being a dick to you so many times when I . . ."

"When you?"

His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "When I found out you were hurt. I guess I just realized I should've probably treasured the moments we got together. And I even had plans," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

She bit down a fond smile, noting how _adorable_ Sirius Black looked. "Plans like what?"

"Plans like watching more films with you," he told her with a sincere expression, and anyone would've been a fool to deny him that.

"Of course, we can do that!" Hermione beamed at him and clasped her hands together. She was being honest; she'd loved spending time with him ever since he'd come back, and deep down, she wanted to jump at the chance of getting to know him more.

When they had that conversation the day of her birthday, she'd been able to see a whole different side of him and she was amazed at how gorgeous he'd looked, listening to her and nodding thoughtfully. Never, she thought as she stared at him, did she think someone could be so perfect.

He was beautiful in every sense of the word, inside and out. He cleaned up nicely; the signs of Azkaban no more haunting him like a trail behind him. She always struggled not to get lost in his deep, grey eyes. Not watching him eye to eye always ended with her gaze shifting to his perfectly sculpted cheekbones—peppered by the light facial hair she would love to scratch—and his toned chest failing to hide underneath his shirt.

And Hermione knew. She _knew_ that he found her attractive, as well. She saw it in his obvious stares and flirty lines. The latter being the actual problem. She wasn't sure how far and deep the attraction ran. Hermione didn't want to be played by him for a one time thing and then have to deal with the ache it may leave behind.

Of course, Hermione had one night stands before, but it felt different with Sirius. Not only was he her best friend's _Godfather_ and her own friend, she was going to have to continue living with him. What if she got too attached and had to deal with seeing him bring other witches home without looking obviously jealous?

_But he doesn't do that anymore_, a voice reasoned with her. Was that right? She thought back to the past few months of him being back. Despite no longer being on the run and having his name cleared, she never saw him come home with a woman.

She bit her lip, her gut clenching in guilt for sleeping with Blaise. She admitted it was solely because she'd seen a blonde clutch onto Sirius's arm and he _had_ sent her a smile that could've only been perceived as flirty.

She sighed in defeat, no longer knowing what was true and what was false.

Sirius's voice broke through her thoughts. "Something on your mind, Kitten?" he asked, his head tilted quizzically like a puppy.

She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward, staring at his mercurial eyes.

"I was thinking," she paused to glare at his feigned, shocked gasp. "Wouldn't you rather want to spend your Friday night with . . . someone else?"

She tried valiantly to fight the flock of butterflies that burst to life in her gut when his lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk. "Someone like who?"

She swallowed, not liking his tone. "Like a woman, perhaps—or just the boys too."

"You sound like you're the one who has plans—"

"No!" she interrupted, shaking her head quickly. She stopped immediately when he started to chuckle at her reaction, his eyes sparkling with mirth. A frown marred her face and she threw a piece of bread at him, which he swiftly avoided as he ducked. Good Godric, he looked sexy doing just about anything.

"Trust me, Hermione. You are the only woman who's had my attention for a long time now."

Heat swam in the depth of his eyes and the way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine.

The breath left her in a whoosh. "_Oh_."


	5. Shagged

_ **September 25th, 2005.** _

Sirius sat down on the couch, pressing play on the remote and propping Hermione's feet on his lap. Her toes wriggled playfully, and she hissed at him like a kitten when he gave her ankle a playful smack. They soon lapsed into a peaceful silence, only the sound of the movie being absorbed by the walls surrounding them.

They occasionally made funny remarks on the incredulous things that happened in the story. Other times, their hands touched as they both grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at each other, opening their mouths desperately to catch the flying pieces.

He felt rather engrossed into the warmth that her body radiated, and he wondered how deep and far it went. Would he feel it on her lips if he were to—_no_, _bad Padfoot._

"This was nice," he told her, his voice strained at his attempt of distracting himself. The last thing he wanted was for him to get a boner with her feet close enough to feel it.

She gave her beaming smile and he stared at her in awe. It was as if her radiating smile lightened up the freckles scattered across her cheeks. He promised himself he would enchant them to look like glitter under the night sky, one by one as he kissed her all over.

He groaned internally and thanked all heavens when the Floo activated and the Potters walked in. His face split into a grin when he noticed the state of James's hair and Lily's smudged lipstick.

"Well, don't you look thoroughly shagged," he announced playfully, and Hermione smacked his arm slightly.

Lily rolled her eyes while James grinned smugly, messing up his hair even further for Merlin knows what reason. Technically, it _did_ get the redhead's attention at Hogwarts year and now, Sirius was starting to wonder if he should pull a James with Hermione.

He scowled immediately at the thought of ruining his beautiful hair. Never mind, he'll find another way.

"Nothing you weren't used to seeing before, Pads."

Sirius arched a brow. "True. But we don't want our dear Hermione to lose her innocence now, do we?"

He cajoled in amusement, grinning at the affronted look on the pretty witch's face.

Lily walked over to the other sofa, sitting down and pulling her auburn hair into a ponytail. She eyed him in disbelief and let out a loud snort. "Hermione? Innocent? You've got the wrong person." The married witch shared a knowing look with her husband and then a flustered Hermione.

"What does she know that I don't?" he demanded, looking at Hermione with his lips pursed into a pout.

James joined his wife on the couch and snickered at his expression. "Don't tell me Sirius doesn't know!"

Everyone turned to look at Hermione, whose full lips curved in amusement at his confusion. "Well," she started and briefly paused into an unnecessary, dramatic pause. "I may or may not have gotten a couple of tattoos . . ."

His breath hitched at the thought of kissing the ink etched on her soft, tanned skin—licking and sucking every line and trace of it. Something was throbbing down there, and he resisted the urge to just flee the room and head straight to have a cold shower. _You're Sirius Black_, he told himself. _Surely, you can handle a hard-on after this long._

"Wh—" he cleared his throat and avoided a set of knowing looks, watching him mirthfully. "When did you get them?"

She tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth, and he continued to gawk at it as she pondered on his question. "A couple of months after the war, I'd say," she told him, nodding to herself.

"Ah, I see. Never knew you had it in you, Kitten," he remarked with an attempt of a confident smirk. She gave him a light kick on his leg, all while blush crept up from her neck to her face. How far down did that soft pink go?

"Well, now you aren't the only one with tattoos, Black."

He swallowed down the images his mind was providing him at the reminder. "Can I see them?" he asked nonchalantly.

Her eyes widened and Lily let out a small laugh, before answering for her new friend, "Those are some pretty hard spots to find, if you know what I mean . . ."

Without missing a beat, Hermione nodded solemnly, "I may or may not have been drunk and overly confident at the time."

He nodded back mutely, not trusting his voice or even his words at the moment. If the tattoos weren't anywhere that could be seen without undressing her, then—

"How do you two know about them?" he narrowed his eyes at James, who seemed unfazed at the question.

"She told me and Lily—"

"Lily and I," Hermione interrupted and immediately ducked her head in embarrassment when they turned to look at her.

"—And she showed it to Lily, who told me what it was and . . ." he trailed off, his eyes crinkling in amusement at Sirius's desperate look to know.

The infuriating witch continued to grin like a loon, and he knew _she_ _knew_ of how desperately he wanted to find out what the location was _and_ what the tattoos were.

Soon, she left the room and he sat there, gaping foolishly at the empty spot. "_Fuck_," he bemoaned, ignoring his old friends' snickers by flipping them the bird.

* * *

_ **September 28th, 2005.** _

Hermione didn't know how long she stood there, fiddling with the cuffs of her Auror robes. Amos Diggory had requested a chance to speak to her and she'd hesitantly accepted, despite Harry's attempts at stopping her.

While the man had been under the _Imperius_, they soon found out that he was writing letters to someone else, discussing how they should force her to bring back their loved ones. Deep down, Hermione couldn't help the need to apologize, because just like James, Lily and Sirius, Cedric also deserved the chance to live.

Inhaling deeply, she allowed herself to approach the Azkaban guard, who informed her that the prisoner was waiting for her inside the room. She handed him her wand and silently slipped inside, taking tentative steps towards the chair that faced the man's.

She gulped down a lump at the haunted look on his face. When he finally registered her presence, he started in shock and tears began to slide down his face. "I just wanted my son back!" he sobbed and tugged at the roots of his hair with trembling hands. "I didn't know they'd make me do that!"

"I _swear_," she felt a hot pool of liquid spring into the corners of her eyes, but she felt the need to explain, as well, "if I knew how to do it again, I would do it. I _don't_ . . . I don't remember the spell I used. I remember going into the room and saying _something_, but every time I try to recall it, it's as if there's a block placed in my mind."

Hermione didn't know why she was telling him all this. Perhaps, it was her conscience not allowing herself to move on when several people were expecting her to do something. Was she not supposed to be the brightest witch of their age? As always, the taunting question continued to slip into her mind.

"You have to be careful, regardless," he told her. It was strange hearing that from the same voice that had sent her a couple of _Crucios_ her way. _No_, someone else had caused that pain, she reminded herself.

"Do you have any specific people in mind?" she asked with a hopeful tone. She needed a lead to find who he'd been approached by.

"No." He shook his head but Hermione knew he was hesitating. His breathing was quickening and drops of sweat were dripping down his forehead.

"What is it?" Hope rose quickly as he opened his mouth to give her every single detail he'd been keeping from the DMLE and she gripped the table tightly as the silence continued to stretch and—

"I think," he paused hesitantly, and she gave him an encouraging nod, "I think they are people trying to bring back You-Know-Who."


	6. Grief

_ **September 28th, 2005.** _

Hermione didn't know why she went there. As soon as the guard had handed back her wand, she'd allowed herself to wander off to the seaside. The sound of waves crashing had filled her ears, distracting them from the buzzing sound that had erupted during her meeting with Diggory.

Those words had been all it had taken for her walls to come crashing down.

She gazed down at her hands, the grip on the blackthorn and phoenix feather wand still tight. It was odd; she was holding onto what represented to be the greatest power range for a warrior. Was she destined to a life of war and battles for life?

It had started becoming easy to forget what one might've lost during those past, tormenting years. Her gut throbbed with guilt, reminding her of how easily she'd moved on after bringing back _three_ lives, but forgetting about the other ones that were lost.

She knew that if someone was able to bring back her Muggle parents and didn't do it, she would be furious.

Because everyone deserved to win the war in one way or another, and sometimes just coming out of it alive wasn't the best reward. The events of it could still haunt them, breaking down every hope of moving on, creating a family and not being reminded of the one they'd lost.

Memories of goodnight stories, baked cookies, and lingering hugs as she bid goodbye invaded her mind, and her legs struggled to hold onto the weight of her actions.

She felt the pull of apparition setting and leaving as soon as she landed on the front stoop of the old house. The cold rush of air immediately surrounded her, and her hands shook as she disillusioned herself. Her hand reached mechanically the door handle, knowing well that the people she wanted to see won't be inside.

The wards were broken for years now, when she'd made the mistake of putting such weak ones after she'd left the house. She hadn't been bright enough to expect her parents to linger back in England for much longer, their tickets to Australia waiting on the coffee table. The same furniture that had held mugs of hot chocolate and—

She leaned against the frame and closed her eyes. She greeted the cold mid-afternoon breeze, allowing it to ruffle her hair and slap the numb skin of her cheeks, wet with tears.

She gripped her wand tighter. Her surroundings were enough to make her miss the gentle voice of her mum after a nightmare, or the silly jokes her dad used to make when they attempted to cook something together. _Oh_, how much she would love to go inside and be greeted with a pair pulling her into a hug, telling her of how proud they were of her.

But, no. How and _why_ would they be? They'd died because of her. It wouldn't have happened, had she not been a witch—a _Mudblood_.

Death was so unfair.

* * *

"Hermione?"

She turned around, knowing exactly why her best friend was sporting such a concerned look on his face. Robards had definitely told her Auror partner of where she'd been.

She shuffled on her feet once again, quietly slumping against her chair, her head in her hands as she leaned on the desk.

She heard the wheels of the chair in front of her move and a heavy sigh escaped Harry's mouth. "Hermione, you shouldn't have gone—"

"Please, Harry," she interrupted, her voice hoarse and tired. "I don't think that's the matter at hand, right now."

He scowled but being clever enough to recognize the severity of the situation, he let it go. Instead, he leaned forward and raked a hand through his hair.

"What happened there?" he asked, his expression twisted with worry. Over the years, Hermione had gotten so used to that look, that she merely blinked at him. Her mind felt muddled and she drew a calming breath.

She proceeded to recall everything that had happened, before she'd made her way to the DMLE—excluding her trip to Heathgate, of course. Blood drained from his face and a heavy silence stretched between them, filling the room with a growing uncertainty of even succeeding to kill Voldemort.

_No_, she argued, _he's dead. They can't bring him back._

"So - instead of trying to kill him, now we have to make sure no one brings him back to life." Hermione groaned, rubbing her temple as a throbbing headache kicked in.

"I will never regret somehow being able to bring them back, but perhaps this wouldn't be so hard if I remembered how I'd done it," she said after a moment, uncertain.

He leaned back in his chair, his brows furrowed. "I remember Remus was with you, wasn't he? Couldn't he have seen, or maybe heard it?"

She shook her head. "I remember telling him to stay outside and when I asked him if he could remember anything, he said he couldn't."

"Hermione," he started gently when despair crossed her eyes. "None of this is your fault."

Her palms were too sweaty—she dropped her wand on the table with a _clank_ and tore her eyes away from him. She couldn't bear to look at his emerald eyes; the same ones she'd been desperate to see when Hagrid had carried him in his arms. She remembered the anguish that swallowed her whole, mocking her for letting him die.

She'd promised herself not to let that happen again. It was arguably the main reason why she'd ended up staying an Auror. Yet somehow, she'd brought a spark of hope for Death Eaters to look for their Lord again, the same fucker who'd tried to kill Harry more than once.

Hermione was _terrified_. She admitted it wholly. Horrifying thoughts remained in her head ever since she'd worn that Horcrux. But she still knew that if she was the one to create the mess, she'd be damned not to find a way to fix it, as well.

She forced herself to meet his eyes once again, determined. There was a silence stretching between them, before she spoke up, "We need to bring back the Order."

* * *

Hermione looked around the room, couches and chairs full of people she'd met more than once since the war. Still, it felt bittersweet seeing them huddled at Grimmauld once again.

Despite his manipulative behaviour, she missed Dumbledore. He was supposed to be there—acting as the leader of the Light and giving proper, organized orders. She shouldn't be the one standing in front of them, and she doubted she could match the requirements to perform a decent job.

Still, she swallowed the urge to protest and drag Harry in her place, instead. Her eyes wandered down to the corner, where the Potters were. Her best friend sat where he belonged, next to his parents and his fiancé. He didn't belong with more burdens on his shoulders.

Hermione had just finished explaining everything that had occurred so far, in the same way she'd done with Harry. Most looked pale, if not slightly shaken, but still relatively calm. Perhaps, it was because this meant dealing with just Death Eaters and not Voldemort himself. Sometimes, she didn't think they realized how those who bore the Dark Mark could be just as cruel.

_Thinking about me, poppet?_ A voice cackled a laugh, enjoying the shiver that ran down her spine. She grasped the parchment in her hands, fixing a stare on the list she'd made.

"Harry and I are going to look for the group that was in contact with Diggory. I think we should keep an eye out to the Death Eaters that managed to escape, and—and I will try to see how I managed to work out the Veil."

Voices started to protest and at the loud noise, she reached for the edge of the table behind her in a tight grip. Almost everyone instantly quieted down, well acquainted with the after-effects that accompanied the war. Finally, one person spoke for the rest of the room, "Why would you work on the Veil?"

She looked at Andromeda briefly, before a slightly different image of her appeared in front of her eyes and she looked away. With an attempt to steady herself, she let out a shaky breath. "I just think it would be useful to - well, maybe I could bring back more people," she admitted, taken aback by the question.

"You can't do that."

She eyed the woman with surprise, meeting her dark eyes as her stomach began to sink. "And why not?"

Andromeda's eyes softened greatly, and she let out a weary sigh. "Hermione, you can't fight with death. I have learned to live with the fact that Ted is gone. I know other people have, too. But if you find a way, how long do you think you will keep doing this? Allowing people to drag you to the Death Chamber and order you to bring anyone back from a Veil?"

". . . Or perhaps, you want to see if you can bring back Muggles, too."

Hermione swallowed thickly, her fingers gripping the wood behind even tighter. The reminder once again ignited the oxygen she was struggling to breathe in. Conflict raged inside of her, causing her to bite her tongue so hard it bled. She blinked, forcing down the anger that urged to surface.

She held her eyes locked with black ones, resembling the haunted, deranged ones while a slur was being carved on Hermione's arm.

"Are you calling me selfish, Mrs. Tonks?" she asked curtly, unable to keep the coldness out of her tone.

The woman made to protest, but she held her hand up, halting any further talk about the war. They were supposed to be discussing the present, the future and everything it could hold.

"You're right. I do believe we should just focus on finding the Death Eaters still at large. The Aurors are helping, but I thought that perhaps we could use some help from the Order . . ." She stood her ground and delivered her ideas, carefully enunciating words to stop her voice from cracking.

By the time the meeting was over, she allowed her feet to take her to her room. Halfway through going further inside, she paused and glanced at Harry and Ron. A part of her family had survived, she reminded herself, and she allowed her body to sag in relief.

* * *

Hermione looked down to find words staring back at her. It was as if the old, worn out book had grumpily called her out for not paying attention. Had it been any other day, she'd have been glad to find a distraction from the content. At the moment, though, she couldn't stop her eyes from wandering off to the window.

It had gotten dark out, the sun setting slowly, but steadily. There were some things that happened, regardless of anything else going on in life. Things like the sun rising and setting each day, allowing people to wake up and go to sleep accordingly. Hermione would love to welcome back the normalcy of life.

A knock broke through her thoughts and before she could stay quiet, letting whoever it was to assume that she was asleep, the door opened slightly. Sirius peeked through the gap and barged in, kicking the wood back with his foot. His hands were carrying a tray, and the smell of dinner surrounded her senses.

Not allowing him to hear the rumble of her stomach, she protested, "I'm not hungry, Sirius."

He rolled his eyes at her, still sauntering to her bed and finally sitting down next to her feet, as he nudged them away. He shuffled on his seat, moving up slightly so that the tray could sit on her lap. "Eat."

"I just told you—"

"And do I look like I care?" he asked, clearly not expecting an answer as he held out a spoon to her.

A soft grunt escaped her lips, but she took it from him and welcomed the dinner wholeheartedly—though, she tried to hide it from him. She _had_ told him that she didn't want to eat.

It was when she remembered the hollow crevices on his cheeks, a gaunt look on his face when he used to drown in Firewhiskey, that she let out a bitter laugh.

"How awful of me - bringing you back to a world on the edge of yet another possible war."

"I don't think it's possible."

She looked at him, feeling a little stunned. "And why is that?"

His hand found its way to her own, their gaze still locked. "Because during the beginning of it all, we didn't have _you_."

She didn't have the heart to tell him that it didn't matter. That it was because her parents had _her_, that they'd died.

"You give me more credit than I deserve." Her voice sounded much smaller than it ever had, in any conversation with the man sitting in front of her. Who was she to complain, when he'd fought the war for more than fifteen years?

He leaned forward, his gaze focused on the swelling of her eyes. "I don't deserve any either," he argued, and she let out a baffled noise.

"Why would you think that?"

It took a moment, then there was a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. "Exactly my question for you, Hermione."


	7. Edible

_ **September 29th, 2005.** _

Sirius had to take a second look at Hermione once he reached the doorway. When she turned around, a small smile was playing on her face, despite the bags under her eyes - still a reminder of what had happened yesterday.

He had expected a totally different sight of her—moping around with a brooding energy all around her.

Instead, Sirius found that not only was he completely wrong, she'd also gone out of the way to make him _breakfast_.

Hermione _hated_ cooking.

Keeping a neutral expression on his face, he slipped into his usual seat and gathered a couple of pancakes on his plate.

"So, did you finally manage to free Kreacher or what?" he finally asked, a wry grin turned at his lips.

She pursed her lips at the reminder of her failed attempts. "You always have to mention that at least once a week, don't you?" she muttered, a defensive note bleeding into her voice as she sat down and filled her mug with coffee.

A question as to why she wasn't drinking tea was on the tip of his tongue, but the relaxed look on her face made him stop. Instead, he let his grin grow wider. "Always."

"Anyways," he continued, after swallowing down a bite; a gesture he knew, Hermione would appreciate. "Do you _have_ to go to work today?"

She looked at him rather distastefully before drawing the mug to her lips, taking a sip. "Sirius, not all of us can stay home and swim in pools of money."

The corners of his lips tugged into a smirk as he leaned forward, scooting against the edge of the table. "Well, I would love to tell you about the way this money could become yours, too."

As if to act oblivious to his hidden message, she cocked her head and eyed him up and down.

"I don't think I care enough to learn about that," she told him, pleasing him with a playful smile of her own.

"Must you be so cruel?!" he cried out dramatically, his lips pursed into a childish pout. He promised himself he would get her back for that.

Though, at the moment, Sirius was just glad that her mood had somehow brightened over the previous evening.

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten the fact that she was a war hardened witch now — no longer the know-it-all girl that reprimanded her friends over the smallest things.

Sirius had spent the night chastising himself, but also feeling a growing respect for her. She'd kept her burdens hidden for so long, when he'd never even stopped brooding once he'd escaped Azkaban.

He drew himself away from these thoughts before she could catch a change in his expression. The witch was too brilliant for her own good.

He wouldn't be surprised if she'd already managed to find out about his attraction for her — not that he really hid it. It was just an attraction, after all. It will die down soon.

* * *

Hermione briskly made her way to her office, greeting a few colleagues on the way. Despite still being a bit overly excited, everyone had finally gotten used to her and Harry working in the same department.

She couldn't exactly blame them — not after the disaster that was her fawning over Gilderoy Lockhart. She'd even seen him briefly after the war, when she'd visited Neville's parents with the DA.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she closed the door behind her and found her best friend already sitting at his desk. Lifting his head from the desk, he cracked open a single eye to peer at her.

Flashing him a quick smile, she walked to her chair and plopped down with a loud sigh.

"Nightmares?" he asked, like it was a usual inside joke between them.

She hummed in reply as her eyes roamed over the papers in front of her. She didn't exactly want to remember how she'd woken up sore, crusty eyes as a product of crying in her sleep.

"What do we know about the case so far?" she asked as she rose from her seat and approached the white board she'd insisted they should get.

Her fingers wrapped around the black marker nearby and she started by scribbling down Diggory's name.

"We know that Diggory has been talking to former Death Eaters, most definitely discussing the possibility of bringing back the dead. He was also Imperiused by one of them," she heard Harry answer and she nodded thoughtfully.

_Diggory: contact with Death Eaters (about the Veil), Imperius._

"Alright. Which Death Eaters do we know that are still on the run?" she questioned and as he recalled the names, she wrote each one of them with a growing tight grip on the marker.

_Death Eaters: Amycus Carrow, Dolohov, Rookwood, Rowle._

Harry moved to stand by her side, looking at the board in defeat. "Well," he then began in feigned cheer, "if we didn't have enough motivation to catch them before, we do now."

Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded because truthfully, he _was_ right. While the Aurors did catch a lot of the ones that had gone into hiding, there were still too many left that should not be roaming around free.

Four may not seem like too big of a number, but it _was_. Especially, when it posed a danger to the public.

"Alright. Let's go over the sightings of the last few attacks and we'll go from there - to see which ones are currently active," she said, eyeing the stack of papers in determination.

"Considering the Death Eater's use of the Imperius, I would say he's not too keen on staying hidden," Harry said and moved to join her.

They better get to work, she thought as they walked to the larger table at the center of the room.

—

It'd been a few hours since they'd started looking over the reports from the past months, and Hermione had yet to find a distinctive pattern — not until her partner informed her about how some particular pictures were only about the room's aftermath and not the _bodies'._

"Harry, you're right! Now, if we jot down the names of the families, we could find a way to visit them and ask if . . ." she paused abruptly with a wince.

That was not going to be an easy visit for either of them.

Harry raked his hands through his hair, messing it. "Maybe, we should have lunch break first."

She agreed to the offer quicker than ever.

* * *

Removing the wrapper off her sandwich, Hermione took a bite and almost sighed in joy. While she loved the mystery around solving cases, she was easily lost in it.

She never really knew when to stop and take a break until Harry pointed it out.

Stifling a smile, she watched her best friend look at his left hand in a daze. "What's on your mind, Harry?"

Before the war, he would've evaded the question and said something along the lines of a mere 'nothing'. But ever since they were forced to stay in the tent together for several months, he'd grown out of it just to make sure she would talk about what was making _her_ cry.

It'd filled her gut with warmth, despite the cold brewing outside and the Horcrux around her neck. Not only because it was such a thoughtful surprise from him, but also because he'd finally managed to open up to her.

Hermione could happily call that one of her proudest achievements.

Breaking through her thoughts, he answered, "It's Ginny . . ."

"What about her?" she asked carefully.

"This stuff with the Death Eaters and well, I was thinking about the engagement, that maybe—"

"Harry!" she interrupted, narrowing her eyes at him. "You better not be thinking of doing the same thing you did in sixth year."

He shot her a glare as he continued, "We decided we're going to get married _sooner_ than we'd planned."

"_Oh_," she muttered and sent him a sheepish glance for not letting him finish. When his lips quirked up, her shoulders relaxed and she found herself growing even more curious. "How much sooner?"

His cheeks tinged pink and he mumbled something she couldn't quite catch. When Harry was asked to repeat, his voice grew louder. "Next week."

"Next week?" Hermione gasped, her eyes widening at the image of Molly that her mind provided her with. The matriarch was lamenting about not being able to choose _the food, the venue, the tables, the chairs—_

Hermione loved the woman but it was in moments like this, that she found herself glad that Ron and her were no longer dating. She knew her best friend was glad too, considering how happy he was with his current girlfriend.

Sarah was a sweetheart. Hermione only hoped Molly would be nice to her as time came for them to tie the knot.

As if reading her thoughts, Harry grimaced and said, "_Yeah_. Molly isn't too happy about that, but Ginny wouldn't budge."

She nodded in understanding. "What about your parents?"

A smile spread on his lips at the mention of the couple and he shrugged. "They didn't really care. Actually, they even told me how they'd done the same thing."

"What's with you Potters, marrying redheads and doing it quickly, too?" she asked wryly.

She had to duck her head to avoid the piece of bread that he hurled at her. Oh, the Boy-Who-Lived will have to pay.

* * *

Wand steady in her hand, Hermione watched as Harry knocked on a worn out wood for the umpteenth time that day.

So far, they'd visited around a dozen people, and needless to say, not many of them were willing to recall such attacks.

It didn't take long for the door to open, revealing an old lady, greying hair visible atop her head.

"Mrs. Dincley, we would like to ask you a few questions from the behalf of the Auror department," Hermione told her evenly.

The woman stopped staring at Harry to cast her a brief look and nod encouragingly. "Yes, yes. Do come in, dears."

The two of them wandered inside the house, eyes constantly darting around the few entrances put in place. The woman surprisingly led them to the same room of the pictures, motioning for them to join her on the black couch.

Giving a quick smile, Hermione sat down and looked at the notes she'd made on the attack. She let Harry begin the process, using his charm to placate any anxious feelings the woman may have.

"Where were you when the attack took place?"

Eyes downcast, she answered, "I was in the kitchen. I have trouble hearing and didn't hear my poor girl until it was too late."

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Dincley. I promise you, we will make sure to find who it was. Now, what happened after you found her?" Harry inquired tentatively.

"I hurried to take to her to St. Mungo's but even that wasn't enough. Blood was just pooling everywhere!"

As soon as they lapsed into a tense silence, Hermione proceeded to ask, "Have you noticed any strange occurrences following or during the attack?"

There was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes and she wasted no time in replying, "Those Aurors of yours paid me no mind, but I just _know_ there was something strange with my poor Linda's attack!"

A volatile mix of curiosity and dread swirled in her belly, and she gave her an encouraging nod, waiting patiently for the woman to follow up with the statement.

"She was struck with such a strange colour . . . _purple_, of all things," she muttered quietly with a shake of her head. "Never seen anything like that curse."

The pen in her hands stilled, a buzzing resonating through her brain as soon as realization dawned on her.

The breath left Hermione in a whoosh, her hesitant hand moving to her shirt just barely, intent on showing a small glimpse of the scar that ran from the middle of her chest and down to her torso.

The older woman moved with shaky hands, tracing the scar briefly with silent tears rolling down her cheeks. "That's what my little girl was hurt with," she whispered mournfully.

Hermione will make him pay for it all. For almost killing Remus and Tonks. For all the deaths he did end up causing in both wars and after. She would rather die than let that sick monster run free from his sins.

Still, Hermione felt gobsmacked. Surely, _Dolohov_ couldn't be making it so easy for them, could he?

Why would he use his own spell—knowing well that she was an Auror and knew what it looked like—when he could've just casted the Killing Curse?

There was a hidden message, and she was intent on finding out what it might be.

* * *

By the time Hermione got home, all the lights were out in the living room. Kreacher was most definitely sleeping in his tiny room, if his loud snores were anything to go by.

She felt a twinge of disappointment at not being able to spend more time with Sirius, but she shoved it down. No, she could _not_ be clingy. Friends didn't act like that—unless they were a drunk Ron or Harry.

Hermione admitted her drunk behaviour wasn't far too well, but whatever. It wasn't going to happen again. Well - maybe, at the wedding . . .

Mentally chastising herself, she dragged her feet to her room, muscles strained in exhaustion. Once she slipped into an old t-shirt and a comfortable pair of shorts, she heaved a sigh and plopped down her bed.

Her hands moved to tie her hair in a braid, and she wondered briefly if she would be getting any sleep tonight. She surely didn't want a repeat of last night.

Forcing her teeth away from her bottom lip, she decided she'll just attempt to sleep after a cup of tea. With a nod to herself, she made her way to the kitchen and as she moved to cast some light in the room, she found herself colliding into something very firm—something _naked_.

She let out a groan and her hands moved to grip the counter behind her, ready to steady her swaying body before it could stumble on anything else.

With her wand shoved close to the shadow's face, she cast a Lumos and found Sirius staring at her unabashedly.

"Oh, it's just you," she finally muttered, moving her wand away from him. She swivelled on her feet when the idea of a hot cup of tea called for her attention once again.

As she continued to make her small dream come true, Sirius leaned against the fridge by her side and scratched at the dark stubble along his jawline.

"You're telling me you saw all this," he said, motioning his half-naked body down with his hands, "and said 'it's just me'."

"Yes," she said steadily, her eyes trained on his chest. She found herself unable to look away — _Merlin_, have chests always looked so _edible_ to her?

"Right." Sirius scoffed, looking bewildered. Hermione didn't dignify with an acknowledgement, instead wordlessly pouring another cup of tea for him.

Suddenly, he moved to stand closer, his chest pressed against her back. She felt his breath on her ear as he leaned down to hold the cup, and the sensation made her shiver pleasantly.

"Thanks," he told her, his voice deeper than usual.

She jerked a nod and he moved away, leaving a trail of heat that had spread around her back. Oh, this wasn't going well. She hurried to shuffle to the edge of the large window, taking a seat next to him.

A short but comfortable silence descended upon them, both looking out at the silver stars, dispersed in the sky. There was something about his presence that eased her exhaustion just by sitting by him.

"I thought you went to sleep," she said conversationally.

Sirius blew over the rim of his steaming cup and grinned. "Not at all—just took a shower as you can clearly see."

The tip of her tongue darted out and slipped along her bottom lip. Oh, Hermione could clearly see the drops of water that remained, rolling down his forearms and his Adam's apple.

Despicable, how men didn't know how to dry their body after a shower.

She grunted a reply and suddenly, his expression grew curious. Head tilted like a curious puppy, he asked, "Why aren't _you_ asleep?"

His tone held a strange edge, as if he somehow knew exactly the reason why but wanted her to say it out loud.

But of course, he would know. He'd had to deal with dementors for twelve years, just as soon the First Wizarding War ended. She wouldn't be surprised if he still didn't experience the same troubles.

"There's some times where I can't sleep," she admitted unashamedly. "For a few years, they've only occurred during certain days or months, but lately . . ."

Sirius held his gaze locked with her even as she trailed off; his silver, molten eyes smouldering with a soft fire. He considered her for an uncomfortable, silent length of time.

"Well, Moony will deny it but he let me cuddle him when I had my own nightmares," he gave her a wicked smile, while Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, yes. Now, do tell me I'm welcome to join you in bed anytime," she said with a snort, eyeing him appraisingly.

Sirius looked shocked, recovering just in time to laugh softly. "And just how did you know I was going to say that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos this story has been getting so far! I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Feel free to give any critique or even just tell me what you think about the chapter!!


	8. So Far

_ **October 10th, 2005.** _

Putting on the other pendant, Hermione stepped back and looked at the full body mirror, allowing a satisfied smile to seep through her lips.

She wore a long, pastel lilac wrap dress, with sheer short sleeves, a decent V-neck, and a waist-defining bow at the side. Feeling awfully giddy, she twirled around and relished the soft feel of the fabric against her legs.

She was extremely grateful for Ginny. The woman had made sure the bridesmaids were comfortable with the dress she'd chosen for them. If the redhead and Hermione liked it, she was pretty sure Luna and Sarah were also more than satisfied.

At the sound of someone clearing their throat, she turned around to find Sirius leaning against the entrance of the tent, an amused smile playing on his face.

She threw him a quick glare, though she hurried to join him and hold the arm he'd offered her. He looked quite dashing, she decided and made sure to tell him so as her eyes drank in the sight of him in silk robes; ones that enhanced his good looks and the fortune everyone was sure he owned.

"Your ethereal beauty has rendered me speechless, Hermione," he replied with clear awe.

She almost snorted at his elegant use of vocabulary, but his earnest look and tone made sure to assure her that he was entirely _serious_.

"Good thing we need the best man to stay quiet during the ceremony," she quipped, throwing him a sideways glance as they walked towards the altar. Her best friend—_Merlin, he was getting married!_—was pacing around, darting a hand through his now dishevelled hair every so often.

Shaking her head at his behaviour, she let go of Sirius's arm and instead placed a comforting hand on Harry's cheek. Bright, green eyes softened at the sight of her, and he let out a breath of relief.

"Hermione! Have you seen Ginny? What if she—"

She swatted the back of his head to cut him off before he could start rambling, and she gave him a reassuring smile. "Harry, _breathe_. I just saw her and she's honestly very happy. I know for a fact that she's been waiting for this moment since forever, and she would _never_ leave you."

A wobbly smile appeared on his face, still showing signs of his nerves, and she couldn't quite blame him. Her two best friends were only twenty-five—of course, Hermione was a year older—and one of them was already taking the big step.

She couldn't believe they'd come this far. He had survived everything that had been unwillingly handed to him. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye because she was just, so - oh, _so_ proud of him.

His eyes widened and his thumb wiped away the stray tear that had slipped on her cheek.

"I'm so happy for you," Hermione whispered, and he moved to engulf her in a suffocating hug that spoke louder than any words.

"Thank you," she heard him say and she hastened to pull away to check if she'd made him cry, too. That was the last thing she wanted to do! Harry deserved to be all smiles, on this day especially.

Giving him one last encouraging grin, she moved to the side, so that she could join the other two bridesmaids. Neville stood facing Luna, while Ron was on the opposite side as he looked at Sarah adoringly.

She narrowed her eyes at the arrangement—they were all couples and strangely enough, _Sirius_ was standing in front of her. Not letting herself ponder on the thought for too long, she waved enthusiastically at James and Lily, who sat next to the Lupins as they held onto a very hyper Teddy.

He looked like he was scrambling to get to Hermione, causing her heart to swell at her Godson. They had obviously chosen a perfect Godmother, and she let herself be arrogant about that.

Despite the arrival of fall, the sun was shining brightly with hot streaks that reached out to every person, while they all looked on with fond smiles at the bride that walked towards the altar.

Mr. Weasley—_Arthur_, she corrected herself like he always did—let go of his daughter's hand and passed it to Harry, who was visibly resisting the urge to weep at the chance of finally marrying the woman he loved so dearly.

For the moment, everything was well, and she relished the beauty of love; an emotion so simple, yet so profoundly complicated with its gifts and hardships.

When her eyes finally moved away from the couple and found grey pinned right on her, she allowed a rare, shit eating grin to slip on her lips, and Sirius winked at her, looking over her face with an indecipherable gleam.

—

Hermione sipped on her wine, watching with amusement as Ron wobbled on his legs in an attempt at dancing while drunk.

She hadn't realized she had company until Sirius joined her side and nudged her shoulder with his.

"How you came to date Ron, I'll never know," he chortled, managing to look down at her despite the heels she'd worn.

Damn him and his height.

She raised a brow at him, looking back at the redhead with a small smile. "He's usually more composed than this."

"Hunted Horcruxes, but he's still shit at dancing."

"Hey, now," she began defensively, narrowing her gaze at him. "Stop insulting my best friend. I doubt you're any better."

With a slow smirk now playing at his lips, he leaned closer to her - so close that she could feel his breath, hot against her cheek. "My, my - is this your way of asking me to dance with you?"

"What?! No—"

"—Don't worry though, 'cause I'm _brilliant_," he finished with a satisfied smile and grabbed her glass to gulp down the rest of the drink. She couldn't even protest, too focused on the tongue that slipped out to lick the remains of the red liquor along his bottom lip.

Finally out of her stupor, she crossed her arms and gave him a calculating gaze. "_Me thinks_ you're too drunk."

"_Me thinks_ you should get on your damn feet," he mocked and offered her a hand, making sure to seize her hand in his as they walked to the dance floor.

"And you say I'm the one trying to get you to dance," she murmured, a hand on both shoulders as he placed his own around her waist.

She couldn't help but cherish the gentle touch, warmth spreading through the cool fabric and throbbing her veins with an intense feeling - one that she couldn't name just yet.

"I'd just like to show you my fantastic charms," he explained in a solemn tone, grinning at her as he twirled her around.

He blew away a strand of hair that had sprung back from her french braid and her lids fluttered at his closeness, hoping he couldn't hear the loud boom of her heart over the music.

"You don't have to prove anything to me."

His smile faltered, instead sporting something much more solemn. She often forgot what he looked like when he wasn't smiling. Sure, it had only been around five months ever since he'd come back, but she had gotten so used to his amused glances and teasing words.

Hermione hoped that with this second chance in life, he will smile for much longer and for many more things to be happy about.

"Thank you," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse, a myriad of emotions swimming in his molten, grey eyes. Her heart stuttered at the intensity of his look, and she tilted her head at him, confused.

"What are you thanking me for, Sirius?"

"The question is what am I _not_ thanking you for," he corrected her, clearly desperate for her to understand him. "You've done so much. I—there's _nothing_ for me to complain about. You've given me a life, given _my best friends_ a life, kept my Godson alive. Merlin, what have you not done, Hermione?"

She swallowed thickly, unsure of how to respond to that. They'd already thanked her enough; more times than she deserved. "It was something I could do, so I just did it. Really, if you'd been in my place, you would've done the same thing."

Or so she hoped, anyways. She wasn't exactly aware of just how fond each person was of her. Deep down, she still felt like the little, bushy haired girl who sat under a tree, with the company of a book and not any friends.

Completely unaware of what she was thinking, he let out a whoosh of air, seemingly trying to rid himself of the strong emotions he was caught with.

"Still . . . thank you," he murmured, and his hand moved to cup her jaw, leaning closer and closer until his soft lips met the skin of her cheek, lingering on the kiss for a little moment before moving away.

When he pinned her with an unsure look, searching for any complaints and failing to find any, a genuine smile spread on his face, and she couldn't help but find herself enjoying each and every moment of that day.

* * *

_ **October 22nd, 2005.** _

"James," exclaimed Hermione, her tone mixed with surprise and confusion as she entered the kitchen.

She looked back at him once more as he said, "Hey, Hermione," before moving towards the tea kettle and pouring herself a cup.

She placed a scone on her plate—thanking Kreacher silently for his good behaviour recently—and set it up on the table just as she sat in her usual seat.

Her best friend's dad, who should be older but magic had other things in mind, darted a hand through his mop of hair, resembling his son even more than he already did.

"What are you doing here?" she asked casually, no longer caring about being careful around him and Lily.

The couple had sat everyone down a couple of weeks after returning back to life, pleading for everyone to not treat them as people older than they really were. Of course, Harry still called them 'mom' and 'dad', but everyone else proceeded to consider them friends, or even _younger_ siblings.

It was quite funny, now that she thought about it.

"Lily is mourning Snape, and I don't know what to do," he blurted out quickly and then proceeded to wince.

Sighing heavily, she allowed herself a second to remember the fallen man. Sure, she held respect for him for keeping allegiance to the Order, but just like with Professor Dumbledore, she couldn't help but begrudge him with other acts that had _nothing_ to do with his position as a spy.

Nonetheless, she understood that he'd been Lily's best friend and an ache formed deep in her chest at the thought of what her friend might be going through.

"The grieving period has finally hit her, and I'm not saying you should let it happen, but you _could_ give her happy memories that remind her of him - make her smile just like . . . _Snape_ would have, had he been here," she said carefully, pride growing for the man who was listening intently to keep his wife content.

"You're a good husband," she commented, hoping to lighten the atmosphere, and he grinned at her, plopping a piece of omelette in his mouth.

"And Kreacher is a good cook - much better than _you_," he teased, letting out a chuckle at the affronted look on her face.

She huffed, pursing her lips into pout like a child who'd just been chastised for doing something wrong. "_Honestly_," she muttered, exasperated. "What's with everyone hating my cooking?"

She eyed him carefully and he shrunk in his seat, even as a shirtless Sirius finally joined the seat next to his best friend and laughed at the two.

"One of these days, I'll bake something and you two will be desperate to eat the delicacy!" she exclaimed, her voice getting higher as she shoved down a bite of her scone.

"Well, just tell us when you're going to do that, so that we can move before this shithole burns down."

"You're making me rethink of actually buying the flat I've found," she threatened, pointing her spoon at him as though it was a weapon that could scare him away.

His arms raised in surrender before his jaw went slack and brows furrowed in confusion. "_What flat?_"

"Oh, you know," she mentioned casually, "one in Malton — it's pretty cheap."

"But that's too far," he spluttered, and James began moving his head to look at the two, each time one of them spoke in turn.

"Sirius," she began slowly, sounding like someone who was addressing a five-year-old. "We have magic."

"Well, _fuck me._"

"Sorry, Padfoot. But I'm a married guy, y'know," James butted in and his best friend flipped him off, ignoring Hermione as she snickered at his expression.

* * *

"Are you sure this is it?"

Eyeing him from the corner of her eye, Hermione nodded in assent and peered over the edge of the wall, glancing around the other room to find it empty.

She moved away from the doorway and Harry followed, looking carefully around the place. The sofas, dressers, and even the carpet looked perfectly intact, showing no form of life at the moment.

They'd received a message that same morning: someone had managed to catch a glimpse of one of the Death Eaters that was still free. She was surprised to see that the location was still in England, considering others had been found in foreign countries across Europe.

"Check again," he insisted, and she tapped her wand, casting a second _Homenum Revelio._

The spell informed them of another presence in the house, causing Hermione to take a deep breath to reinforce her level of patience and to keep moving.

"I'm going to check the bedroom," she called in a hushed tone.

Harry gave her a brief nod. "I'll go to the kitchen."

With that, she moved away from the counters, filled with expensive, ceramic vases and what appeared to be _Dark Arts_ books.

Her brows scrunched together when her eyes flickered towards the far-end room, and she swiftly walked towards it, a firm hand grabbing the knob and turning it.

The door creaked loudly, and she strained her ears to hear any other sound, though she found the action to be futile when her eyes immediately met the sight of a frightened house elf.

The small creatures looked at her with big, bright brown-green eyes, continuing to fill with tears at each step she took forward.

"Hey," she said in a quiet tone. "I'm not going to hurt you."

One more step forward and she was close enough to kneel on the floor and level a careful stare at the house elf. "But we need you to tell us everything we ask you. Is that okay?"

When she—Tully, she soon found out was her name—gave Hermione a shaky nod, the Auror called for Harry, who was quick to enter the bedroom with a curious look.

She told him how she'd found Tully and they whispered to each other of what the course of plan should look like. Once they came to an agreement, she looked back to the elf, who still stood shivering in the corner.

Hermione gave her a hesitant smile, hoping it would comfort her, even if just a bit. "Now, can you tell us who your Master or Mistress is?"

"Tully's Mistress be Mistress Clara, but Mistress be telling Tully to listen to Master _Carrow_."

A contemplative silence stretched between them, allowing Harry to ask a follow up question, "And what is your Mistress's relation to Carrow?"

"Master be her lover, but Mistress is no more. No, she's not," Tully croaked with a trembling mouth, shaking her head frantically.

Hermione moved closer to the house elf and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Can you tell us where Carrow is?"

"Master Carrow left after he received a letter. Tully does not know where he goes!"

"Do you know who it was from?" Harry questioned, trying to hide his alarm.

"It was from a bad woman, but Tully knows no name."

"Do you know what she looks like, Tully?" she asked, barely being able to contain how _desperate_ she was to drink in all the information they were able to get.

"Tully saw her once. She saw a picture, she did!" she exclaimed with a nod.

"Which one? Where is it?"

When small fingers gripped the front page of the Daily Prophet, they found themselves facing a woman they knew all too well.

Her pulse quickened and at his sharp intake of breath, she looked back at Harry to find him staring at her with a similar, silent question.

_What do we do now?_

* * *

Her hands were lost in the mass of curls, desperate to ease the growing headache with a tentative massage.

Moving to tuck her pen behind her ear, Hermione looked back at Harry with a pensive expression.

"The thing is that Carrow had power in the Ministry _and_ at Hogwarts. This means that he had enough time to secure a place in a girl's home, if a time to hide were to come."

"You're right," he muttered, rubbing along the edge of his jaw absentmindedly. "And since his girlfriend died in the war, he didn't have to worry about her confessing anything about him. He was even still able to hide in her house."

"He stayed there for Merlín knows how long, Harry! We've found almost all of them in Norway or Romania, but Carrow was _here_ all along . . ."

"Or at least he was, until he got a letter from _her_," Harry added, spitting the last word in revulsion.

At the reminder of the woman, she could feel the angry drum of magic swirl around their office, both sharing more than enough resentment towards their newfound suspect.

It felt like a heavy stone had been set in the middle of their investigation. Sure, they'd gotten a new lead, but it was one that they didn't like, at all.

All Hermione knew was that the woman wasn't aware of what was coming for her. She rejoiced at that, and allowed herself to shut her eyes, even if just for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God, I'm so late, but I hope you enjoy the update. Happy new year and thank you so much for all the support you've given me so far!


	9. Questions

_ **October 23rd, 2005.** _

"Why do you look so nervous?"

Hermione looked up from her bowl of soup, her mind made up on eating anything she could before going to work. Probably not a good idea, considering the bile she could feel rise up her throat due to the nerves, but nothing could stop her anymore.

She wondered how Harry must be feeling and before she could think of checking up on him prior to their meeting, Sirius strutted across the room without a shirt _yet again._

Her eyes drank in the sight of his skin glistening with water drops and _God_, why couldn't he dry his body after getting out of the shower, so that she didn't have to fantasize about _licking_ it off for him? The sun rays that hit his solid pecs surely didn't help.

"You could wear a shirt, you know," she informed him, forcing her eyes back up. She regretted the move the moment she saw his lips barely hide a growing smirk.

_What a git._

He shrugged, walking towards her as he dried his hair with a small towel. At least, he didn't shake it like Padfoot would've done. There was, in fact, a difference between the two. _Let us praise the Gods._

"I could," he told her, plopping down the seat across her. "But I don't want to."

He threw the towel behind him, making it land on the arm of the black couch. "Pass me an apple, will you?" he asked, making a show of stretching his arm, to demonstrate just _how far _the bowl of fruit was from his seat.

A simple _Accio_ could have done for him, but she stretched out her arm anyways, grabbing the green apple and leaning against the edge of the table so that Sirius's long, slender fingers could reach it.

She felt his warm touch on her fingertips and even just that managed to send a shiver down her spine, her heart booming against her chest.

Hermione retreated her hand and went back to munching on her vegetables, but the crunch that followed his bite on the apple brought her back to a reality that she had to inevitably face.

Hermione Granger liked his presence—no, she liked _everything_ about Sirius Black.

But at the moment, she had more crucial matters that deserved her attention. Her attraction to Sirius bloody Black could be fed and sated later. At least, she hadn't _denied_ it.

Her eyes flickered over to the old clock that hung above the fireplace and she stood up, abandoning her half-eaten meal as a wave of nervousness ran through her body. _She could do this—they could do this—it will be fine—_

"What is going on with you, Hermione?" He sounded weary, as though he somewhat had an idea of what could be running in her mind at the speed of kilometres.

Her teeth sunk down her lower, plump lip and she fiddled with her fingers as she reached to wear her Auror robes over the blue, cotton sweatshirt.

With her back towards him, she replied, "Nothing, just - I'll see you at the Lupins, okay?"

Craning her neck, she flashed him a quick smile. When his lips lifted into a content grin, she felt the twist in her chest ease, even if just a bit.

_When will that bloody 'later' come?_

* * *

"Harry, are you sure you won't—"

He cut her off with a dismissive hand, looking mildly annoyed. "Hermione, you've been asking me that since this morning. _No_, I won't lose control. I thought you could trust me as a partner by now," he said, his tone leaking with hurt.

Hermione placed a placating hand on his arm and looked over his face with reassurance. "I _do_ trust you . . . You know what? Let's get going."

Giving his arm a quick squeeze, she let go of it and they both nodded at each other before approaching the tall entrance, the stench of humidity continuing to follow them. Basements had never been fun, even in the Ministry of Magic.

Looking at the words _'Ignorantia juris neminem excusat'_ one last time, she swung the door open and entered the large room.

Her eyes sought out a particular figure, among many others that wore plum coloured robes embroidered with a silver letter _W_. This one wore a black robe, catching Hermione's attention immediately once she found the familiar mousy, brown hair.

If not for the abnormal frequency she wore the colour pink, the woman could definitely be recognized for her 'toad-like attributes' as Harry had so-called them.

Not waiting any longer as she knew the trial of the day was over already, she met Harry's eyes as they both began to move to the area where all the Wizengamot members sat.

She hadn't been there in a while, she realized. Though, she was glad that this time, she would be bringing the same evil woman back with her, the one that had tormented her during the course of her past job.

"What is going on here?" the sickly-sweet voice rang around the room, looking down at them with a penetrating gaze.

"As Auror Potter and Auror Granger, we must take you, Madam _Dolores Jane Umbridge_, for questioning on the behalf of the DMLE," Harry stated in a hard voice, looking none too close to apologetic for wordlessly restraining the vile woman's hands with magical handcuffs.

The reaction came immediately. "Let me go this instant, or I will have you lose your jobs for such incompetence. This is unacceptable!"

Harry's nostrils flared and he let out a harsh breath. "Just like you've been communicating with a wanted Death Eater?" he asked in a calm, low voice and yet, everyone seemed to have heard him as shocked gasps followed the long table.

"Madam Umbridge, if I can give you a piece of advice," Hermione began conversationally as the woman struggled against her hold. "_You must not tell lies._"

Harry didn't care to restrain the loud laugh that escaped his mouth, so neither did she.

—

Hermione could see how this woman had managed to escape the fate that had been fixed for her after the Final Battle. Imperius Curse, she'd said and while others wouldn't have survived with just a simple claim like that, she _was_ the Senior Undersecretary after all, and the Wizegamot was selfish and greedy, no matter how much they tried to hide it.

Hermione had a hard time believing that she'd managed to make the Lupin Act pass. But she was thankful nonetheless that it had even happened. At least, a large amount of discrimination, inflicted on werewolves like Remus, was no longer part of the Wizarding World.

Hermione looked away from the glass window, signalling to Harry that they should enter the room, where the woman sat restrained.

Swinging the door behind her shut, she walked to the other side of the door and allowed Harry to start the questioning first. She knew how much he'd been waiting for this. All the hurt that had been inflicted upon him, even the scars on his hand because of this _bitch_.

She watched as Umbridge refused to drink the Veritaserum, rolling her eyes at the outraged look on the woman's face when Harry made her drink it, nonetheless.

"What's your name?" Harry began, a satisfied smile on his face when she answered in a monotonous tone. He craned his neck to look at her, silently asking who should go first. _Honestly_, he should already know that she wouldn't mind him doing whatever he needed to do.

"Let me check again. . . just to make sure it's working. Who gave me these scars?" Harry's hand flew inches away from Umbridge's face, whose eyes shot wide open.

Her face turned red and Hermione almost believed that she might be able to hold back the truth, but alas it came out, anyways. "It was me."

"It still burns sometimes, you know? Of course, we're not here to talk about _that_. We could get done here quickly, so don't try to lie - not that it's going to work. Why have you been in contact with Amycus Carrow?"

Umbridge's nostrils flared, her mouth opening automatically. "He had expressed interest in getting the revenge that he and his friends deserved."

"So what - you offered to help them?" Hermione asked, eyeing her appraisingly.

The older woman spared her not a look, but still answered, "I approached them first."

Not only had she been able to communicate with the Death Eaters, she'd somehow even convinced them to risk being shipped to Azkaban - for what? More Pureblood agenda? It hadn't worked before, and Hermione would be damned if she let that happen again while she was alive.

Harry gave the woman a loathsome look. "What did you talk about in those letters?"

Finally, Umbridge's gaze shifted towards her and her lips curled into a feral smile. "I informed them of a little _miracle_ that happened at the Department of Mysteries. They were convinced that a _Mudblood_ with so much power was dangerous."

Hermione's wand made its way towards Umbridge's neck, the top digging lightly against the woman's skin. Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and he asked in a low voice, "Who else is involved?"

With her wand still pointed at the woman, Hermione thought about the possibilities. It couldn't be Rookwood or Rowle, as they'd both been caught in Romania by the Order, unaware of anything that had been happening in England.

So, the only ones left were—

"Amycus Carrow and Antonin Dolohov."

It wasn't surprising — she'd caught signs of Dolohov's recent attack and it looked like he wasn't one to run and hide, but _oh_ \- how much she wished she could get her hands on him right away.

She'd always wondered that perhaps, had he not knocked her down during the battle in their fifth year, Sirius wouldn't have fallen in the Veil. It was a little, innocent girl's delusion, but it still mattered to her. She will forever hold a grudge against her purple scar; it had stopped her from saving someone - from doing her very best.

"Do you know where either of them are?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as though she could read her mind just like that — which, she technically _could_ because magic and Legilimency were real.

The older woman's cheeks puffed with air, looking more like a squirrel than a toad; one that had stuffed its cheeks with lies. It won't be long until the truth started spilling out.

"No."

Harry gave her a resigned look, but Hermione shook her head. They could still get a few more things out of her. "What is your plan? I'm sure you've made one, considering that you were the one behind the attack on me."

Under the heavy light that hung above the table, Hermione could see the beads of sweat that began to trickle down Umbridge's forehead.

"We had planned to lead you to the Death Chamber, have Diggory force you to confess on how you'd brought multiple people back to life — all to have our Dark Lord live again. When I heard that critical investigations started over it, I urged Carrow and Dolohov to stay hidden for the moment."

So, they were highly motivated, but still not enough to risk getting caught. "Would you be able to get in contact with them again?"

"No. They always initiate contact each time they move." Umbridge's dark eyes burned with a hatred that she couldn't find herself to fathom even now, how one could carry such spite over the fickle factor that was blood.

Harry was frustrated, she could tell by the clench of his hands and the harsh push back of his black hair. His chair moved back but before he could get on his feet, she latched her fingers around his wrist to stop him.

Arching a brow at him, she said, "There's one more thing we need to do."

Nothing was going to get her out Azkaban, not even the claim of the Imperius Curse. Not if she denied it herself.

* * *

"You look like you've had a hard day."

Hermione looked away from the glowing form of the moon, craning her neck to glance at Remus. Despite his older scars, her friend looked more at ease than she'd ever seen him.

She could see how much good love had done to him. Tonks was like a sanctuary, the woman who'd given him everything that he'd thought he was unable to receive. She'd fought back every time he'd harshly stated that he deserved none of it. And yet, Tonks had continued to believe that he was worth all the struggle and more. Hermione was sure that he truly was.

Teddy Lupin was the miraculous fruit of their love. He was _so_ enthusiastic—showing Hermione how tall he'd gotten the moment she stepped through the Floo after work—and smart too, showing each parents' best attributes.

She scooted over the blanket that she'd set up on the wet grass, allowing Remus to sit beside her. He gave her a feigned serious look when his knees popped loudly, and she smiled.

"Sometimes, I feel like working on my case with no breaks, not until I catch the people we're looking for," she admitted, absentmindedly picking at a few strands of grass. She wasn't perfect and she couldn't finish everything all at once, but the disappointment that came with not solving a case right away still stung.

"Sirius told me of how late you get home every day," he commented, shooting her a concerned look in a typical Remus way.

She snorted, blowing out a short breath. "Just because he's been acting like a good boy lately and staying at home, he shouldn't tell on _me_."

"You know he has grown closer to you," he told her, sounding cautious as if he knew of how her heart was picking up an abnormal rate. There was nothing she could do to control it and she felt utterly helpless.

Searching for Canis Major among the vast sea of constellations, she heard herself say, "I've grown to care for him, as well."

The silver beauty that met her eyes urged her to let Sirius know that, too.

Hermione will do that, not now but . . . _soon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! The muse for this story comes sporadically, so forgive me if the updates are irregular. Still, I would love to know what you think about it, and thank you for the support!


	10. Anger

_ **October 24th, 2005.** _

"Why does Prongs look like his antlers might fall off?" Sirius asked as soon as he entered the room.

His best friends were gathered around the newly renovated living room of the Potters. He remembered the first time he'd visited Godric's Hollow after his escape, unable to hide the whine he'd let out as Padfoot.

Seeing James and Lily's names on the graves had hit him with a deep sense of despair. And now, to see them alive once again, it was a sort of euphoria that he wished to never be rid of.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he plopped down the seat next to Remus, who looked like he'd drained two glasses of Firewhiskey already, as the full moon continued to approach.

"Harry showed us what Umbridge did to his hands," Lily finally answered. The redhead's face began to resemble the colour of her hair, filled with an obvious ire at the woman mentioned.

He'd only been able to hold back from landing in Azkaban for the second time after Hermione had gripped his arms tightly, keeping him from throwing a Killing Curse at the ugly toad that had inflicted so much pain to his Godson.

He had been alive at that time. He could've done something - he _should_ have!

"I'm so glad that the two got rid of her. Pity there's no more Dementors in Azkaban, though," James commented with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy locks defeatedly. Lily patted his back, her hand only pausing when Remus spoke up.

"What do you think would've happened? If Peter hadn't betrayed us?" The greying man raised his head, looking at each one of them to gauge for a reaction - a much needed answer.

But how could they tell what a different ending would've been?

Fists clenched tight at the mention of that rat, Sirius did his best to keep his voice levelled. "Does that even matter anymore? Harry has gone through too much for us to just live in the past. Who knows what we might be seeing today if it wasn't for him? We need to get a grip."

Lily looked proud as she nodded, a fierce fire behind her emerald eyes. "And not just Harry. Anyone who fought this war gave us the future we live in today. _Hermione_ . . . she told me about what she did to her parents." She shook her head, her gaze now glittering at unshed tears. "I didn't know how to thank her for staying by my son's side."

"She _is_ amazing," Sirius murmured, his heart drumming in his ears at the mere reminder of the woman that had been haunting - no, _blessing_ his dreams and life altogether. "I've never seen anyone like her before."

James snorted, his lips lifting in a cocky smile at last. "That's new coming from you, Pads. I admit that all those girls you've known at Hogwarts were nothing like Hermione. How many of them would've brought us back?"

"Even Moony didn't," Sirius commented, pulling his bottom lip in a pout and looking at his best friend with feigned hurt.

"Don't blame me for not wanting Teddy to be around bad influences!" he joked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Remember when Andy invited us to babysit Tonks?" Sirius said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming at the grimace that appeared on his best friend's face. "I'd say I'm glad that you didn't get to come that day."

"Sirius," Lily tutted, though her smile betrayed the disapproval she was trying to voice. "There's no need to tease him anymore. He's a _married_ man."

"Does that mean we should tease the only bachelor in the house?" James cut in, looking positively giddy at the thought of bothering Sirius.

Sirius threw him a glare. "Hey! Not my fault you've been trapped by beautiful women."

"Or maybe, _you_ don't have the guts to approach your beautiful woman," Remus argued, pleased with the turnaround of the conversation.

Sirius remained quiet, unable to utter a valid excuse at the statement. He had the guts—he was _Sirius Black_, for Godric's sake—but Hermione seemed just so distracted lately.

How on earth was he supposed to approach that hard-working woman?

When he voiced that to his best friends, they looked shocked at his sensibility, and he almost felt a pang of annoyance at the fact that they still thought of him as a brash, womanizer boy.

That man had died the same night the Potters had.

"Why don't you suggest going out for dinner? It might get her to relax," Remus advised thoughtfully.

Sirius shook his head. "I already tried that. Kicked me out of her room, she did. She said I was distracting her too much." He rolled his eyes and drained his glass of Firewhiskey. "_Maybe_ . . ."

"I don't like the sound of that," Remus commented, looking suspicious at his thoughtful tone.

"It's time to bring my old ways out. A true trickster by heart." He winked and jumped to his feet; he had a witch to rescue.

"Wait, Padfoot," James called out to him, worry leaking in his tone. "Are you sure you should bother her like that?"

Sirius turned around briefly and threw him a meaningful look. "Can you blame a bloke for worrying?"

James glanced at Lily and shook his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. "No, I cannot."

* * *

Hermione sighed, pulling her hair in a loose bun. Her headache had no intention of easing, so she might as well make herself as comfortable as she could.

Sending a brief look at the clock — when had it gotten so late? — she tapped her pen against her chin thoughtfully. A bunch of letters sent to Umbridge were spread out, and she was trying to recognize the magical signature, though she'd failed pathetically so far.

She'd only found that there was an additional party involved, helping those two Death Eaters from being tracked right away.

What other way could they mislead the Aurors?

She bit her lip when her stomach growled.

_Focus, Hermione!_

They could do it by . . . sending it to someone else first and having them redirect it to Umbridge!

Just as she was about to rejoice at her own brilliance, her eyes snapped up at the rustle behind her, and she craned her neck to find a corporeal Patronus make its way towards her.

"Padfoot?" she murmured, rising from her seat to approach it. She went to caress it, just barely reminding herself that it wasn't the dog himself.

'Hermione, you need to come now! Just grab the Portkey I left on your bed—'

Her stomach churned and she could barely feel her hands move to grab the small stick that she hadn't noticed before. Wand in her hand, she tapped the piece of wood and allowed her body to relax, even as her body proceeded to be sucked in and out into a dark alleyway.

Disoriented for a beat of a second, she straightened and instantly her gaze fitted around at her surroundings. Her brows knitted together at the glimpse of a man that turned around the corner. She followed him instantly.

It _had_ to be Sirius.

Keeping her steps as quiet as possible, she remained right next to the cemented wall and copied the man's swift turn, just to be greeted by the sight of a park.

Her eyes widened at the table placed right in front of a giant, old oak tree. Thanks to the two candles dimly lit on top of it, she was able to see the immense number of rose petals spread on the sidewalk, leading her to where the man—no, _definitely_ Sirius—stood.

Hermione glared at his back, though she found that her intentions really lacked any malice. She approached him silently and tapped on his shoulder.

He whirled around then, hands tucked in his dress pants' pockets and a wide grin plastered on his face.

She exhaled a long breath as the anger left her body. Despite living in the same place, it felt like an eternity had passed since she'd last seen him and _boy_, was he a sight to sore eyes.

Biting down a not-so-subtle remark at his beauty, she voiced her confusion, instead. "What's going on, Sirius? First, that Patronus and now this . . ."

She looked around, still in a daze at the beauty that surrounded them. It was as though millions of fireflies had gathered around to make it look so magical. He cleared his throat to gather back her attention, and she gladly gave it to him.

"I thought it would do you some good to get out once in a while." She made to protest, and he immediately placed his finger on her lips, leaving her breathless - just a bit, she swore desperately.

"I know you go out to work every day, but that doesn't count, and you _know_ that," he muttered, his brows scrunched at her. He took a step forward then, cupping her face in his hands.

She was pleased at how soft she found his touch to be, filled with a certain kind of reassurance that she didn't know she'd needed.

"I haven't been that bad," she complained half-heartedly, her gaze completely stuck on him. He cocked a dark brow at her and she shrunk down, admittedly aware of how wrong she was.

Perhaps, she _had_ been pushing herself too far.

"It looks like you've realized that you have, so I'm not going to lecture you any longer. That's _your_ job!" He grinned, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone even as she narrowed her eyes at him.

He dropped his hands so that he could seize her own in his. "How about we eat the food before the bugs eat it all away?"

She sent him a winning smile. Her stomach now knew who to be grateful for.

"I'm famished. Did you plan all of this?"

Her heels dug hard in the soft grass and she found that she didn't care, more focused on the nervous look that crept up on his face.

"Yes," he grimaced and nodded at the table in front of them, "though, I'm not all that confident about the set-up. I've never . . ." he trailed off, a searching look that had her preen under his stare.

"You've never what?" She had an inkling as to what he meant, but it wouldn't hurt to play with him for a moment. With how much he'd scared her with that cryptic Patronus, he deserved it.

He let go of her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah—how about we eat?" he suggested with a clap of his hands. He quickly moved her chair, waiting for her to sit with a cheeky smile. "You see, ma'am, chivalry is not dead!"

"Never did I ask for it, young man," she drawled, biting down a smile as she watched him drag his own chair to sit down.

She picked up the cover on her plate, wide eyes taking in the meal he'd prepared for her. "Beef tenderloin. That's very fancy of you."

A proud nod from him and then, "Always the best for you, Hermione." He sent her a long look, his molten eyes drinking in her pleased smile before he looked down at his own plate. "_Always_."

She felt her throat go dry, a hitched breath escaping her mouth. She wasn't sure where this was going, and something Hermione avidly disliked was ignorance from her part.

But now, even the unasked question didn't bother her as they spent their time under the night sky, blanketed with more stars than the human kind deserved to see.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

She nodded. There was something so reassuring about having the stars above you, lighting their world up, even if just faintly.

Hermione looked back at him, just to have his eyes already fixed on her. He wore a mesmerized expression, and she couldn't help but send him a fond look.

It felt like they'd crossed a defining line.

"Why did you do this, Sirius?" The question slipped past her lips before she could think about it.

"I—" he cleared his throat and hurried to continue, "I told you, didn't I? Thought it would do you some good."

She blinked at him and he eventually let out a long sigh. "I might have missed you a bit. No, really. _A lot. Despicably so._ Happy, now?"

She tilted her head, biting down a satisfied grin. "Very. You know why? Because I missed you, too."

His lips lifted into a pompous smirk, and she could see his back straighten. "You did? Well, of course you did! Should've just called me, Kitten. I don't bite - not unless you _want_ me to."

Hermione twirled the glass of wine in her hands, sending him a long, challenging look. It might just be the alcohol talking but, "Where _do_ _you_ bite?"

"I might just show you, if you're not careful." His voice had dropped dangerously slow and under the dim candlelight, she could see his eyes drop to her lips, sliding down and down—

"Right." She cleared her throat and stretched her fingers along the edge of the table. "I think it's time to go home."

He cocked a brow at her, and she huffed out a laugh. "Really—I'm exhausted."

"Could still cuddle with me, y'know—"

"Right. Maybe, next time."

"—Next?" he spluttered, his hopeful eyes following her movements as she went to stand up. He eventually righted himself and cleared his throat. "Of course, yes. Next _date_."

She paused, her pulse racing under her skin like it had been challenged to be beat faster and faster—drumming into her ears like she could barely make out her own voice when she said, "Definitely."

* * *

_ **October 25th, 2005.** _

After a refreshing, though shortened amount of sleep, Hermione had immediately gone back to the letter and scanned the last one for any hints, and—

"I've found it!" she exclaimed immediately when Harry appeared by her room's doorway, his hair dishevelled as always - if not a tad bit more today. She was by his side in an instant, him looking at her with wide, curious eyes and her mind going through a myriad of possibilities. "It's Lucius Malfoy! He's been passing along the letters through the Azkaban exchange system."

His shoulders sagged and he thumped his head against the door frame in clear frustration. She sent him a bewildered look, which he noticed and finally deemed it right to inform her of whatever he knew.

"_Of course_, it just had to be him. He's landed himself in fucking St. Mungo's."

Her loud gasp rang around the room, and she drew her brows together. "_What?_"

"Yeah. Mrs. Malfoy's condition worsened so much—they actually _admitted_ that it's hopeless to figure out what curse she was hit with at Hogwarts—so, Lucius Malfoy finally got his chance to see her. Thing is that when he was left alone with her, he grabbed the wand that some idiot had left on the table and he tried to hurt himself."

Her hand quickly flew to her mass of curls, and she pulled at a few strands in frustration. "Merlin, _Draco_," she breathed out the boy's name in clear worry, "he must be going through so much."

Harry's nose scrunched up, and he pulled his lips into a grimace. "He actually tried to resign."

Her nostrils flared and she glared at an empty space by her bed. Oh, that little ferret—

"Not on my watch," she said bitingly, already moving away from her room and descending the stairs at a fast pace, Harry following right behind.

"Oi! Where are you two going? It's Sunday," called out Sirius from the living room, one of his legs somehow dangling from the arm of the couch.

"I need to see _Draco bloody Malfoy!_"

That piqued his interest immediately and while Hermione would've given him a pleased smile at how fast he got ready, her mind was already somewhere else.

_Damn you, Death Eaters._

* * *

Hermione was struck at how quickly a sneer appeared on his face, right as soon as he registered her presence - along with Harry and Sirius.

She rushed forward, sitting down on the chair that faced him across the large desk. The small window behind him allowed the sunlight in sharp waves, pointed right at her eyes but she shoved the discomfort down. "Are you okay?"

Draco gave out a snobby laugh. "And if I'm not? It's not like we're _chummy_, Granger."

Exasperated but not surprised at his behaviour, she nodded slowly and shifted in her seat. "I agree that we may not be the _best_ of friends, but I still care. Is your father—"

"I don't think of him as that anymore," he gritted out, his jaw tense as he finally looked straight into her eyes. She was shocked by the pool of despair that swam in his eyes, and something in her chest caved at the resistance he'd constantly shown her.

He seriously needed a good friend.

"Of course," she allowed easily, nodding along to his words. "Is Lucius Malfoy's condition critical?"

Malfoy huffed out a heavy breath, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "He will survive. Mother called for the Aurors before he could inflict too much pain to himself."

She reached out to place a hand over his pale one, immediately noticing how _cold_ it felt over her warm one. At least, he didn't move it back. "I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but—"

"Should you trust him, Kitten?" Sirius interrupted in a loud voice, looking at Draco not too apologetically. "Let's not forget that he was a Death Eater, too."

Hermione didn't look back once, instead noting how Malfoy looked all too used at the man's words. "A reformed one," she insisted fervently.

Draco looked surprised at her words, but no more than the shock that took over her when Sirius left the office - a loud scoff and a slam of the door that echoed around the room even a few beats later.

"Well, there you go," she muttered, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration at the man's immature reaction. Her gaze slid from Draco to Harry, then back to the blond. "We need to talk, but might as well eat, too. Did you have lunch? I can order curry."

Harry's glasses almost slid off his face when his neck snapped towards the Healer. "Malfoy eats curry?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been a pain in the arse since - err, I'd say February 27th. Yeah . . . but hey, it has finally come to see the light! I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!


	11. Jealousy

_ **October 25th, 2005.** _

"Shouldn't you go check on him?"

Hermione's head snapped up to look at Draco, who was pointedly ignoring her gaze, instead focusing on his plate of naan and butter chicken.

When she said nothing, he continued with a bite in his tone, "Potter may be stupid, but _I'm_ not. It's clear that Black was jealous."

She dropped her eyes to her now empty plate, a resigned sigh slipping past her lips as she propped her face on her upturned palm. "I think you're wrong."

Much to her surprise, Draco huffed out a short laugh. "Merlin, you're so oblivious, bint."

She glared at him. "Don't call me _bint!_" Then, she drummed her fingers against the chipped wood of the table, looking around St. Mungo's dining area. She finally allowed herself to look back at him once more. "Do you _really_ think so?"

He gave her a slow smirk, reminding her much of their time at Hogwarts, though his face clearly lacked any real malice now. "What would I gain from lying to you about it?"

"Being the cause to my embarrassment," she pointed out, her skeptical eyes narrowing at the familiar grey in his gaze.

He rolled his eyes slowly—_dramatically_. "Save me the excuses, Granger. It's obvious that you don't have enough _bravery_ to confront Black about it."

The clear jibe at her Sorting did not escape her, and she briefly wondered if he was aware of the insecurity that came with proving that she _did_ belong in Gryffindor, rather than Ravenclaw.

"I'll go talk to him," she threw back with a haughty huff, "but not because your words affect me!"

He raised a sharp brow. "Whatever you say, Granger." And that was the end of the conversation, as Harry returned to the table with some food for himself.

Malfoy then didn't hesitate to tell them to not go too easy on Lucius Malfoy for his sake. "I stopped caring for him a long time ago," he spat, a bitter note to his voice that had her eyes water no matter how much she willed them not to.

How young had the boy been, when he was forced to join a cause that involved killing Albus Dumbledore?

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. She glanced at Harry and when he nodded, she continued, "I wish things could've gone differently."

Draco rolled his eyes, even as something _warm_ sparked in his eyes, and he rolled his sleeves up. "No need for all that Gryffindor melodrama. Just—let's have lunch and go."

Harry gave a lopsided grin that she would've never thought would be directed towards _Draco_, and with a satisfied smile of her own, she stood up and glanced down at the boys.

"Well, _I'm_ done and I actually have somewhere to go . . ." she trailed off as a slow smirk grew on the former Slytherin's face, and she huffed with not much heat.

—

Hermione found Sirius sitting on a bench in the gardens just outside the building, and she buried the flutter in her chest at how _handsome_ he looked under the sunlight; his right leg propped on the other's knee, and one of his arms draped along the back of the bench as he stared at the flower bed beside him.

She hesitantly made her way towards him, gnawing on her bottom lip when he didn't immediately glance at her like he usually did. She wrangled her hands together and cleared her throat like an awkward idiot.

_Come on, Granger. You can do better than that!_

"The pink tulips are very pretty," she began conversationally, eyeing the flowers before looking back at the brooding man. "They're my favourite."

He didn't say a word. She glared at a spot on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," was what she eventually decided on, levying out a heavy sigh in defeat. She really never had to deal with such a tough man to figure out.

He glanced at her, indulging her by casually - _way_ too casually - asking her, "Whatever for?"

This time, _she_ was the one to quiet down, and he immediately continued, "You really have nothing to apologize for."

Hermione eyed him with surprise and arched a quizzical brow. "Then how come you're so upset with me? Are you . . ." she paused and coughed into the back of her hand, her neck warming up pleasantly, "_jealous?_"

Sirius looked outraged, evidently fuming at her accusation - which was really just a question, _honestly_.

"Why would I be jealous of that stupid, whiny git? Who managed to gain your friendship and maybe even _more_, while I was fucking _rotting_ in the Veil!" He then let out a string of curses that made a bashful smile grow on her face more than anything else.

Draco had been right.

"I guess then you wouldn't care if I told you that he and I are just _friends_ . . ." she exclaimed, biting down a grin when Sirius's gaze flew towards her at a formidable speed.

His grey eyes widened slightly, his jaw slack. "Oh?"

"Yes. _Oh_. Not that I'm not _pleased—_" she said, rolling her eyes in amusement when he muttered something under his breath and began to scratch the back of his neck.

She chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she could dare to say anything more, all while his gaze dropped to her mouth. Something bloomed and fluttered in her stomach, and her own eyes began to trail down . . .

"Then," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat hastily, "would you be _pleased_ if I were to—"

"Hermione, there you are!" Harry rushed towards their bench, panting with his hands on his knees. "_Fuck, fuck, fuck—_"

Hermione offered him a curious raise of her brows, and her best friend then hurriedly added, "Lucius Malfoy is _gone_ \- with Draco."

—

"What the fuck do you mean you _lost_ him?" Hermione demanded angrily, pacing along the hallway in front of the patient's empty room because Lucius had managed to escape and fucking _kidnap_ his own son, all while Aurors should've been guarding the place. "Where _were_ you?"

Walker shrunk at her glower, looking at his partner sideways before he awkwardly caught her gaze again. "We didn't think he would wake up so soon. So, we thought of getting some food."

Harry groaned loudly from his seat, his fingers buried in his untidy curls as they pulled at the roots in frustration. "I can't believe we lost the one lead we had."

"And Draco is now in danger because of our mistake," she whispered angrily, frustrated to no end at how easily he'd gotten away, while she'd been distracted.

She tightened her jaw in determination and looked back at Harry. "Let's find anyone who may have seen them and get the search going. He couldn't possibly have gotten far by now."

Once preparations of a plan began between them, Hermione stepped away from the Aurors and inched closer to Mrs. Malfoy's room. Sirius was already standing by the door and looking through its small window.

"How is she doing?"

Sirius gave her a long look that informed her of the answer. _No change. _Hermione nodded as Harry joined her side once more, and they both began to ponder on what to do just as Sirius cleared his throat.

"I could—you know, come with you two."

A surprised look took over her face, while Harry grimaced at his Godfather. "Sirius, you're not technically allowed to come to a search with us—"

"But it's not an official one," the man argued fervently, adding, "and I _was_ an Auror too, you know. No one has to find out."

Harry glanced at her, holding her gaze for long enough for her to know that there was no point in denying Sirius of what he wanted. "Fine," she muttered, "but you have to be careful."

Once she got him to agree with her, they all quickly decided to apparate to Malfoy Manor. An obvious choice could end up being the key to their success.

—

They were greeted by a sharp silence and pushing back the memories that came with the parlour, Hermione walked across the room and searched for any signs of the Malfoys. "_Hominem Revelio._"

Both men stared at her with eyes wide with anticipation, but once she sighed loudly and shook her head, they both began to look highly resigned.

"Where else could he even go?" she wondered out loud, her brows knitted together as her mind reeled and tried to fit the puzzle pieces into the proper space—

"Hermione," called Harry quickly, his tone one of the kind that made her gaze immediately snap towards him. His look called for total confusion. "Do you know where Malfoy—_Draco_ lives?"

_Right_. Draco didn't live in this manor, anymore!

"I—I never bothered to ask," she responded weakly. Fuck, had she even put any _effort_ in offering a hand of friendship?

_No_, Draco's snide voice answered in her mind.

Harry sighed loudly, while Sirius decided to suggest, "We could check the register at the department and hurry before he decides to move their location."

—

The door to Draco's apartment continued to silently taunt her as she dismantled all the wards that had been put in place, including the additional ones of Lucius Malfoy.

Harry had placed a Disillusionment Charm on them to not give their location away, and with their actions silenced, they finally entered the place with bated breaths.

She caught Lucius Malfoy's worn out robes from Azkaban on the floor and proceeded to move along the rooms to find where they could possibly be hiding. When she finally caught the slight thud coming from the farthest room, she hissed Harry's name to call for his attention.

Once she knew him and Sirius were following her, she hurried towards the door, sending it flying open as she finally caught Draco's wide gaze in hers.

The next moment seemed to be a blur: Harry blocking Lucius Malfoy's spell and Sirius holding him back him with tight ropes, while Hermione hurried to vanish the restraints that were wrapped around Draco's wrists and ankles.

"Fucking hell," Draco muttered harshly as he instantly rose from his chair, watching as Harry's _Stupefy_ rendered the eldest Malfoy unconscious.

Hermione could feel her chest rise in anxious, heavy breaths and her knees almost gave way when she _really_ looked at Draco's dishevelled state. "I'm sorry for taking so long."

The small, sad smile that she received was able to ease the knots in her throat, if only a little. "We all make mistakes, Granger. At least, the man foolishly told me where Dolohov is hiding with his men."

Her brows rose high, and she felt her eyes widen in anticipation. "_Where?_" she breathed out.

Draco visibly swallowed, no longer able to meet her eyes as he paled sickeningly.

"Your parents' old house."

Her throat welled up with a rush of grief at his words, and she stared at him helplessly when not a sound agreed to come out.

Sirius instantly reached for her hand, holding it tight as he stared at Draco with a blank look. "What?"

The blond went to answer, but her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, glaring down at the dark tiles with a harsh furrow upon her brows. Her misty gaze snapped up and she shook her head weakly. "I just- I went outside their house just a _month_ ago, Draco—"

"It's what he told me, Gran—_Hermione_," he answered quietly, glancing back at his father with eyes that burned with hot malice.

Sirius wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her up, all while Harry sighed softly and said, "Let's wake him up and see what he has to say."

—

The man in front of her arched a pale brow, though the arrogant air that had previously been wrapped around him had disappeared. A broken shell of that man now sat completely restrained and unable to move as he stared at her.

And this man . . . he'd known that those _monsters_ had been living in her parents' house this whole time—

Hermione wanted to cry, scream and demand what they'd done to deserve so much vitriol even in death, but she composed herself. She could have a breakdown later. "Where are they?"

If it were possible, he would have arched his brow even higher. "Your _parents'_ house," he replied stiffly, his nostrils flaring when Harry tightly fisted a handful of his platinum hair and pulled it back harshly. "They have been living since your performance at the DoM."

"How did you get this information from Azkaban?" she demanded icily, not bothering to restrain a dark glower when the former Death Eater smirked.

"You'll be surprised, _Miss_ _Granger_, by the power we have."

Hermione pushed back the bile that threatened to rise at his continuous remarks, while Harry and Sirius began to argue with him on how much power he'll have when they turned him _dead_.

She simply stepped back and apparated on the spot, well aware that they will be able to catch up with her when they decided to.

She couldn't wait any longer.

The first thing Hermione noticed when she appeared on the same spot she'd been just a month ago, was the unease that accompanied the place.

This house was supposed to be the memory of family and comfort and instead, it had been used so sickeningly by the same killers of her parents.

Hermione was fucking _fuming_.

She heard the crack of apparition as Harry, Sirius and Draco appeared by her side, saying something along the lines of being careful, but it all seemed a blur in comparison to the sharp ringing in her head.

"Let's go inside," she said hoarsely, having to dismantle the new wards that had been placed around the property for the very first time. Draco joined to assist her, while Sirius and Harry came up with a plan on how to take all the Death Eaters together.

"We shouldn't separate—"

The door opened with an ominous click and she instantly stepped inside, the grip on her wand painfully tight to the point she could feel her own skin bruise.

She felt the first spell fly past her head and she knew it was time.

It was on.

Magic thrummed in her veins as they duelled against some faces they hadn't seen since the Battle of Hogwarts, and it felt as though they were back in the Great Hall, fighting against so many foes with innocent lives at stake.

Hermione was tired of them tiring out the breath of her. "_Incarcerous!_" The Death Eater in front of her tried desperately to shrug himself off the restraints, and with a careful look back at Harry as he fought against Carrow, she moved up the stairs.

_Where are you hiding, Dolohov?_

Each and every step she took towards her parents' old bedroom felt heavy with painful memories of the past, and with a deep, shuddering breath that still left her lungs desperate for air, she entered the room and aimed her wand at the man that had apparently been waiting for her arrival the whole time.

"Took you long enough, _Milaya_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm terribly evil for leaving with a cliffhanger, but I would still love to hear what you have to say about the chapter! I promise, I'll try my best to bring the next chapter much sooner. If you haven't noticed, I also edited the past chapters and fixed many mistakes that I couldn't just let be, lol.


	12. Confessions

_ **October 25th, 2005.** _

"Took you long enough, _Milaya_."

The first step inside the room turned out to be a mistake, and yet Hermione ignored the signs. She gripped her wand as tight as she could, glowering at the man in front of her. Dolohov looked positively deranged, his hair and dishevelled clothes a sign of how long he'd been in hiding.

"Why are you here?" she whispered harshly, taking a step forward and trying to mask her confusion when that simple move seemed to take a toll out of her. What—

_No_ . . . she examined the magic thrumming inside the room, forcing her gaze around the walls and examining it as much as she could without her wand. Did he put a Mind-Altering spell on the doorway?

Dolohov's laugh caught her attention. "Brightest Witch of Our Age, indeed," he said darkly, a sharp smile painted over his lips. Her lips curled in at the gaze that roamed over her figure, and she told herself that she needed to figure how to defeat him _and_ remove this spell soon—

—but something was physically holding her back. Black spots filled her vision as every single bone in her body began to feel excruciatingly heavy. She fought against the terrible need to gasp for breath.

Dolohov stepped closer and raised a brow, tilting his head as though he was considering her. "You can make it easy for me, Milaya. Tell me how we can bring back the Dark Lord, and I'll make sure he keeps you alive."

Bitter laughter tumbled out of her mouth, as slurry as her mind felt at the moment, and she shook her head, eyeing the Death Eater impassively. "How _daft_ do you have to be, to think that I'll ever let that happen?"

She had Dolohov's full attention right now. If she continued talking to him, she could also figure out how to remove whatever spell this room had put on her before he could do anything else. So, she continued confidently, "Why couldn't you just leave this fucking house alone?"

Dolohov stepped forward, his wand rolling beneath his fingers as he leaned closer towards her ear, whispering, "After their death . . . doesn't their murderer deserve their every possession?"

_He_ killed them.

Hermione saw red.

Scorching waves of anger rolled like acid within the confines of her stomach, and the idea of distracting him went out of the window as she immediately shouted, "You fucking _bastard!_"

By the time her wand arm rose to aim an _Incarcerous _at him, Dolohov had already moved out of the way, stepping behind her. Stench attacked her senses as he leaned his chin on her shoulder, pressing the tip of his wand against her hip. "Careful, _Mudblood_. Remember your fucking place before I punish you for removing my memory that day."

She exhaled a harsh breath, noticing with heavy dread the loud footsteps that stopped at the doorway. "Hermione!"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried desperately to move her head towards the door. "Sirius, _don't_—don't come in. He put a spell out for anyone who enters—"

Dolohov cut her off with a snort. "Ah, ah! What do we have here? Are you so worried about the mutt, Milaya?" Dark eyes invaded her vision as the Death Eater appeared in front of her again, turning his scrutinizing gaze towards the doorway and then back on her.

"You leave her the fuck alone!" Sirius bellowed, and she could _feel_ the angry magic that seeped within his presence. Dolohov began to address him then, mentioning all the vile things that he will do with her, but she tuned him out. She wasn't going to let him do _shit_.

She began to reach from within for her magic core, deciding that wandless magic will have to do for the moment. She pictured the wand movements that she would have done for the spell and—

"I'll start with a personal favourite, and you can watch as she suffers. _Crucio!_"

—she _struck_. "_Expulso!_"

Multiple things happened then. She caught Harry's voice as he took down the spell, and Sirius's booming steps as he ran towards her.

But he wasn't fast enough.

Just before her eyes fluttered shut, she caught the flash of blue that hit Dolohov directly on the chest and threw him across the room, but the moment of victory only lasted so long before she fell down to her knees and screamed out in pain, the short-lasting Cruciatus still tearing her ribs apart.

Pain shot down from her fingertips to the bottom of her skull, and she clenched her teeth when she felt someone picking her up. The soft murmurs in her ear were the last thing her mind registered before darkness took over.

.

"I've got you. I'm sorry—_fuck!_" Sirius rambled, choking on his words as he stared at the witch in his arms. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he hurried downstairs, and immediately called for Malfoy. He had already told Harry to take care of the sick fucker.

Sirius's wide eyes pinned on the Healer only just barely. "You need to do something—"

Malfoy turned to look at him, his eyes widening once he noticed Hermione in his arms. "What happened?" he asked quickly, motioning for him to lay her down on the couch nearby.

"She was hit with the Cruciatus Curse— and some _spell_ that seemed to block her movements," he said, curling his hands into tight fists as he glared at the unconscious form in front of him. She shouldn't have gone by herself - without _him_.

The worry that coloured Malfoy's features did nothing to calm him down. "We need to go to St. Mungo's immediately. Wait for Potter to get the rest of the Death Eaters to the Ministry," he informed him, and before Sirius could say anything, he and Hermione were gone in a blink.

_Fuck._

* * *

Sirius hated waiting. He didn't think he could spend one more second outside of this fucking door and just _wait_ for her to wake up. It didn't help that his mind was set on reminding him of what he still _couldn't_ say to Hermione.

He couldn't utter something as simple as three words.

And he almost _lost_ her.

"I need to tell her," he whispered desperately, looking inside the small window on the door and staring at the group of Healers that shielded his view of Hermione.

A hand landed on his shoulder and pulled for his attention. "Tell her what?"

Sirius spun around, his mouth falling open as he looked at Harry, his brows furrowed.

He knew that he shouldn't be rash - especially in talking about how much his _Godson's_ best friend meant to him, but nothing could hold back the words that slipped out, cracking at the memory of Hermione, "I need to tell her that I — I _like_ her, Harry."

Emerald eyes blinked up at him, his words clearly not registering in Harry's mind, until a visible shock appeared on his face. Sirius held his stare and nodded before Harry could ask if he was sure—

"I _know_ this is not like me, but . . . this damn witch has me crazy for her. I can't get her out of my mind!" he rambled, and really - that much should have done the job, since Harry was already looking _behind_ him, but he kept going:

"No matter how hard I try and tell myself that this is just a small attraction, I can't stop my eyes from focusing on her every time she walks in. She's so bloody gorgeous, and the small dimple that shows when she truly smiles has me fucking _besotted_. I'm fucking done for, is what I am."

"Language," a voice chided in the back, but like the idiot he was, he kept going, his eyes fluttering shut as he pictured her soft, caramel eyes.

"I like—" slender fingers wrapped around his arm, and before he knew it, he was turned around - facing the last person he wanted to hear him blabbering like an idiot; he resumed weakly, "—her. I like her."

Hermione fucking Granger stood in front of him in all her glory, St. Mungo's gown included, with bare feet that showed her toes painted in red and a bunch of curls that needed a hand - _his_ hand - to run through them. She arched a brow, just a fraction, placed her hands on his shoulders, and she stood on her tiptoes so that she could reach his eye level.

With his breath now taken away, she murmured, "I was hoping I would be the first person to hear about this _but _. . ." she looked at Harry and his smile must've been encouraging because she immediately latched her gaze back on him, and there was a fire in her eyes that made him thirsty for her attention. He wanted to be _ruined_, left scorching hot in her presence. "I like you too."

He exhaled a heavy breath, his eyes dropping down to her lips. "What?" he whispered hoarsely. He needed to hear this again - needed to know it wasn't just his head playing _games—_

"Hermione, dear!" Molly Weasley announced as she pulled _his_ Hermione away from him and caught her in an exceedingly long hug.

Sirius frowned deeply.

He didn't see the rest of the Weasleys, Potters _and_ Lupins coming to steal her right from under his nose until it was too late.

Hermione's eyes lingered by his lips as she talked to everyone, and that was the only thing that managed to make him pull a smug smile and truly realize what had just happened in the past few - what? Minutes?

It felt like a lifetime had already passed, and a new one was created for just him and Hermione.

_Together_.

* * *

Sirius actually didn't get to properly talk to Hermione in private until she was released from St. Mungo's and told by Draco Malfoy to start sleeping on her actual bed. So, the next morning - for the second time in his life, Sirius found himself making his celebratory "illness release" breakfast for Hermione.

He remembered how bewildered she had looked the first time, questioning _why_ he had been spending so much time with _her_. He wondered what would have happened if he had just confessed his feelings right then and there . . .

"Sirius?"

His head snapped up and a smile immediately formed on his lips at the sight that greeted him. Morning Hermione looked absolutely endearing, no matter what _she_ thought. He watched as she moved to her seat cautiously, as though she was entering the lion's den.

He rolled his eyes, easily plopping down his seat and filling up her plate with waffles and a spoonful of chocolate bliss. Flexing his arm, he leaned against the edge of the table and passed it to her. He arched a brow when she merely gaped at him.

"You're making me blush, Kitten," he teased, the side of his mouth curling at the blush that spread from her cheeks to her neck and down—

"Eyes up here, Mister."

He blinked, tilting his head. "As bossy as ever," he murmured with a soft laugh.

(He was convinced he loved her.)

He waited for her to get started on her breakfast before bringing up the brief confession they had shared at St. Mungo's. Clearing his throat, his gaze snapped up at the blank ceiling above his head. "_So_ \- you like me, huh?"

A sound of spluttering came from the other side, mixed with forced coughing and a glass of water being slammed down the table. "You could've killed me!"

He grinned at her, letting his eyes freely roam over her face. "What? With my delectable looks?"

She made a face. "No, with you being a fool," she replied curtly, though her composure continued to falter when he stood from his seat and approached her. "What—what are you doing?" she demanded as he leaned down, and his hands landed on the curve of her waist.

He picked her up easily and settled her lovely arse on top of the table. His fingers slowly moved up from her wrists to her shoulders, and when they reached a certain spot on her neck, she made an adorable noise that made him want to kiss her right then and there.

He finally buried his hands deep under the mass of soft curls, and he nudged her legs apart with his knee, moving even closer. The touch of her was like a magnet. "I'm asking you something," he finally answered, gently smiling at her flustered look.

"Did you _have_ to get up? I mean—"

He cut her off with a soft grin. "Do you like me?"

Her eyes shone with something indecipherable, and he could've waited centuries for her answer, just so that he could stay there, bask in her presence and admire each and every freckle that crossed the path of his gaze. But kind as she was, she didn't make him wait any longer.

"Yes. I do— I _like_ you, Sirius Black."

He felt a beaming smile grow on his lips, just before his eyes dropped down to watch as her teeth sunk down on her bottom lip, leaving it red for him to suck on. He sucked in a sharp breath.

The expectant gaze that met his was the last confirmation he needed as he leaned in, expelling a soft sigh of content, and his lips slanted over hers. They moved in tandem, softly at first, revelling in the feel of her against his mouth, before it grew more desperate, showing the memories of the nights he spent imagining this moment.

Sirius never knew a kiss could mean so much to him until he shared it with Hermione. He didn't know he could put so much of his soul into it, and he won't realize it until much later.

(He ignored the pull that now began to grow in his chest, for the sake of holding onto _her_.)

She chuckled softly when he pulled back and began peppering her with soft kisses all over her face. "Sirius Black, I am so done with you."

He cupped her face and pecked her pouty lips once more. "Whatever you say, love."

Something akin to absolute adoration shone in her beautiful eyes, and he couldn't look away. Not that he _wanted_ to.

"Please, don't leave me," she murmured softly, and that was the sign he needed to kiss her again; pouring his heart and promise in it.

* * *

The trials for Dolohov and the rest of the Death Eaters felt somewhat unreal. It was as though a proper, sealed ending had finally come for the past. Hermione believed that this was truly the chance for her to move on.

If she hadn't let her guards down and become so foolish - _again_, things might have gone differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it? I am sorry for making you wait for so long. I actually started my first year of university a few months ago, and well - it's been a mess with online classes. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter? I would love to hear what you think! They finally kissed in their good, old kitchen, looking like a domestic couple already :') However, don't think this is over. I have one last phase planned for this story!


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